


Head Games

by Asgardian_Pirate



Category: Red Dead Redemption, Supernatural
Genre: Explicit Language, M/M, Smut, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-21
Updated: 2014-01-31
Packaged: 2017-11-05 18:52:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 30,421
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/409851
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Asgardian_Pirate/pseuds/Asgardian_Pirate
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hey. Hey, you. Yeah, you, pay attention. I've got an ace up my sleeve, and I'm about to show my hand. Dean and Cas? They'll never see it coming. Things will start to get...weird. Out-of-sync. Uncommon. Really, it's their own fault. But do they listen? Of course not! They'll just keep bumping heads, claiming stakes for the "job". Honestly, it's enough to give a guy a headache. As a thank you to these two idiots, I'll do my own job - playing games. Sure, you're thinking of the simple mind tricks. But me? I'm thinking of a full scale co-op campaign, that some would sell their souls for the player guide. The boys better dust off their cowboy boots, because this is gonna be one helluva ride.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Part 1- Tipping the Scale

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first Supernatural fanfic, and I'm pretty excited!
> 
> This story is a slight AU (you'll figure out why once you get there). Set after 5x03 - "Free to Be You and Me". It's going to be structured into four parts. The story is also not beta'd, so don't be too harsh, yeah? Please leave comments and kudos! 
> 
> When this part was written, I listened to: "Shoot to Thrill"/"What Do You Do for Money Honey" - AC/DC

Dean’s calloused fingers tapped rhythmically against the steering wheel of the Impala, music filtering through the stereo and out of the car’s open windows. Sunlight reflected off the sleek, black hood onto Dean’s chest, warming his skin through his t-shirt. The sensation of the warm sunlight and the cool, crisp Pacific air whipping through the window created a balance that had Dean feeling calm; a state in which his body rarely experienced. 

He knew it wouldn’t last. Beneath it all, he knew the bitter, churning thing deep in his gut would rear its ugly ass head and swallow him again. The whole damn situation with the Apocalypse, with Sam...it was a mess. This calm would break like a dam, and all the feelings he’d pushed farther and farther down would eventually spill out. Dean’s fingers paused. His eyes skimmed across the expanse of road stretched in front of him, and he shook his head.

“No time to get sentimental,” he mumbled, reaching for the volume control on his car stereo. He turned the volume up considerably, guitar solos ringing in his ears, as his foot pushed harder down onto the gas pedal.

Dean’s fingers returned to tapping out the rhythm of the song blaring through the speakers, his head joining in the beat.

“Honey! What do you do for money?” He sang, his flat palms banging against the steering wheel, making it tremble. The afternoon sun’s reflection shifted, the light now in his face. As he slid on a pair of sunglasses, a smile played at his lips.

He was going to San Francisco. Castiel had mentioned a possible nest of vampires in the area, and although it seemed unimportant in the face of the impending Apocalypse, Cas had insisted on Dean taking the case. Even if it was for a case, Dean was determined to have a helluva time while he was on the Pacific coast. Beach, babes, and booze. Perfect.

\---

Dean drained the last of his third bottle of beer, eyes still trained on the screen of his laptop. His eyebrows furrowed for perhaps the hundredth time that night as he leaned back in a wooden chair, which creaked in protest with the shift of his weight. An exasperated sigh escaped his lips as he took in the sight of his musty motel room. 

_You’re in San Fran, Dean, and you’re wasting daylight by staying inside, looking for things that aren’t there_ , the voice in his head commented. He drummed his fingers on the stained table in thought, glancing back at the computer screen.

Dean searched every website he could find, and even made a few calls, but there was no activity in this city. Apart from a couple of robberies and one act of gang on gang violence (which he also looked into, just to be sure), there was no evidence to suggest that vampires were in the area. Maybe Cas’ GPS was screwy, or maybe he got his monsters mixed up.

 _Or he lied to get you out of the way; to distract you_ , the voice in his head added, bringing attention to the already nesting doubt. Dean’s grip tightened on the table. Yeah, just one more thing to add to the list.

He could just go out to nearest bar, drink, meet cute girls, drink some more, and have a really good night. He honestly could.

But he wouldn’t. He realized this with a sigh, standing up from his chair and walking a few paces into the room. He rubbed his closed eyes with one hand before placing both hands on his hips, clearing his throat.

“Hey, uh, Cas?” Dean started the prayer. It never became any less stranger, praying to Cas, no matter how many times he had called on the angel. “Why don’t you fly on down here so we can chat?” Dean waited, but there was no ruffle of wings to indicate Castiel’s arrival. The beginnings of anger began to grow within Dean, already planted there by the fact that Cas had lied to him. “Cas, come on.”

Silence.

Dean balled his fists. “Damn it, Cas, get your ass down here,” he nearly shouted, his words thick with anger. Within a few seconds, Dean heard the familiar rustle of wings and opened his eyes.

Despite his anger, Dean couldn’t control the slight flip in his stomach whenever those piercing blue eyes bore into him, seemingly staring into his soul. It was as if Cas could see anything and everything, and he couldn’t help but feel exposed whenever the angel was around.

“Hello, Dean.”

“Do you mind telling me what the hell I’m doing in San Francisco?” Dean questioned him. The angel remained as stoic as a statue, never blinking or taking his eyes away from Dean’s.

“There was the matter of a case,” Cas replied.

“Uh huh,” Dean grunted, crossing his arms in front of his chest. Castiel didn’t budge. “You sure about that?”

Castiel nodded once, his eyes briefly glancing across the dirty motel carpet before returning to Dean’s. “Yes, I am quite sure.”

Dean smirked bitterly, looking down at his feet. “I checked all the activity going on in this city, Cas.” He met the angel’s gaze once more. “No vampires. No murders, no disappearances, nothing.” Dean paused in an attempt to allow Castiel to speak, to defend his reasons for sending Dean here. It was possible for him to have made a mistake; all he had to do was say so.

However, Castiel remained silent. Dean’s brow furrowed. “What’s going on, Cas? Why did you send me here?” Castiel’s mouth parted slightly as he glanced around the room, but nothing came out. Dean’s anger spiked again, and he approached Cas, hoping the sudden reduced proximity would budge an answer from him. Cas looked back at him, his eyes widening slightly, the sight of which made Dean’s stomach flip again.

_What the hell?_

“Dean,” Cas started, taking a step forward so that their bodies were a mere few inches apart. Dean was about to comment on personal space when Castiel placed his hand on Dean’s shoulder, in the exact spot where his hand had made an imprint into Dean’s skin when Cas raised him from Hell. Dean’s heart rate and body heat suddenly shot up. He wanted to move away, but found that his feet wouldn’t follow his brain’s commands.

“It was never my intention to lie to you.”

Dean frowned. “Then how come you did?”

“You’re angry, I understand. But I am not hiding anything from you. I merely desired for you to engage in normal human activities,” Cas explained.

“Meaning?”

“The looming threat of Lucifer and the disagreement with your brother has caused you a fair amount of grief. It is in my knowledge that excessive amounts of this emotion are not healthy. Therefore, I sent you here.”

Dean felt himself relax a little. “So, you sent me on vacation?” Cas looked down again, seeming almost bashful, and Dean felt the corners of his mouth twitch in efforts to smile. He repressed the urge.

“That was the plan, yes. I assumed that you would not be inclined to accept my proposal for a vacation, as you call it, so I disguised my intentions with what I thought would get you here.”

“A case,” Dean stated. Castiel nodded briefly.

“Indeed.”

Dean nearly laughed when a thought struck him. “Wait, so, your proposal? Did you want to come with me?” Cas’ eyes widened again.

“I, uh, had considered it, yes. When we were tracking down Raphael, you had said to me that you had fun...with me.” Castiel continued to stutter, and Dean couldn’t suppress the grin from forming on his lips. Castiel glanced down Dean’s face before finding an interesting spot on the wall to the right of Dean. “Fun, as I have come to understand, is an efficient catalyst in conquering grief. Although, you had mentioned that I was not that fun, and so I disregarding my previous thoughts of joining-”

“Whoa, Cas, slow down!” Dean interrupted the angel’s monologue, still grinning. “I actually like the sound of a vacation, no matter how short it might be; they come far and few.” Cas nodded, but Dean noticed a certain anticipation radiating off of him. “And we did have fun in Waterville, didn’t we? This time should be better; just another chance for you to lose your v-card,” Dean smirked, pounding Cas on the back with his hand. Cas nodded hesitantly, but Dean noticed the small smile forming on his face.

As Dean walked over to the motel table to shut his laptop, Cas asked, “What else do humans do recreationally that I have not already witnessed?” Dean turned around, and wiggled his eyebrows at him. This was going to be a fun night.

“Oh, you just wait and see.”

\---

“Do their hips ever tire from gyrating so frequently?” Castiel inquired, tilting his head as he observed the women called “strippers”. He was surprised as Dean’s laughter roared into his left ear, even over the loud, pounding music filling the dark room. Cas watched the pulsing lights around the stage in front of them as they changed colors, causing the women to glow in various shades as they danced, before returning his gaze back to Dean.

He was smiling, the creases around his eyes evident. He swayed slightly in his chair, the copious amounts of alcohol that he was consuming not aiding his body’s equilibrium. Inebriated. Cas’ eyebrows rose as Dean began giggling without an obvious incitation. _Definitely_ inebriated.

Castiel’s eyes moved back to the brunette dancer, whose legs were wrapped around the metal pole in the center of the stage, her back arched downwards so that her hands were caressing the floor.

Dean leaned in close to Cas’ left ear. “So, what do you think? Great, huh?” Castiel chose to ignore the chill that was the effect of Dean’s hot breath ghosting across his ear.

“It is an impressive display,” he agreed. “But there were also dancers like this at the last den we visited. You had mentioned that I was to witness something new.”

Dean clapped Cas on the back. “Oh, you will. This here,” he waved his pointing finger carelessly through the air, “...is a peep show.” Cas searched his mind for the definition or an equivalent of a “peep show”, but it did not register with him. When he failed to react to Dean’s statement, Dean rolled his eyes. “You know...a peep show. The dancers show us, the audience, different...parts of them.” Dean looked down at his feet and frowned before looking back up at Castiel. “You get what I’m saying?” Dean sounded quite exasperated that Cas nearly laughed.  

“I understand. They show us different parts of their anatomy, and I assume you mean the parts most people deem ‘private’. Does this...satisfy sexual urges? Much like what pornography is intended to do?” He asked. Dean laughed again. Cas was beginning to enjoy seeing him smile so often. Not like the usual sarcastic, bitter, or forced smiles; just...happy.

“Well, yeah, but this. Oh, this is much better!” Dean grinned at him, and Castiel felt another strange urge to laugh. “This, man. This is live and in person. Now, it doesn’t really satisfy sexual, uh, urges, but it is certainly fuel for fantasies.”

Castiel catalogued the definitions into his memory, and added “sexual fantasies” to the list of topics to be researched. He still had many things to learn from humans.

“How does one go about having a sexual fantasy?”

Beer forcefully spewed from Dean’s mouth as he attempted not to choke on his own laughter. Cas tilted his head, unsure how his question could have appeared humourous.

“Dude, seriously?” Dean asked, still laughing. Cas noticed a faint gleam in Dean’s eyes that caused his heart rate to increase. Strange. He’d have to research that as well. Dean cleared his throat before continuing. “A sexual fantasy is, well...whatever turns you on. You think about those things as you...uh...,” Dean paused, gesturing towards his crotch. He pressed the back of his hand to his mouth in an attempt to prevent laughing. “And, well, you keep climbing until you reach the peak, and once you do, it’s all smooth sailing from there.”

Cas tilted his head once more, recognizing some of Dean’s analogies, such as the peak referring to a sexual climax, but one phrase was unfamiliar to him.

“What do you mean by ‘turning me on’? I am not a device that requires an electrical current to function.”

Dean closed his eyes as his chest heaved in and out, an action that Cas had come to know as a form of silent laughter. Was he really this amusing to Dean? The thought created a flutter inside his stomach.

“Cas, turn ons are what you find sexual attractive. They can be certain body parts, or genders, different activities during sex, uh, certain hot spots on your body-”

“Hot spots?”

“Yeah, you know, like, different parts of the body that make you strongly react to a touch or a kiss...man, you really are a virgin, aren’t you?” Dean questioned, eyebrows raised and a smirk plastered on his face. Castiel felt heat rise to his cheeks as he glanced back at the dancer on the stage. Her bare breasts swayed in time with her body, a few beads of sweat gliding down her ribcage.

“Quite a sight, huh?” Dean wiggled his eyebrows at Cas before returning his gaze on the dancer. Castiel agreed that the display of this human female was visually pleasing, however, he couldn’t help but frequently rest his eyes on Dean’s face. Even beneath the pulse of the various colored lights, he observed the faint glow of his skin. His friend was enjoying himself; he knew Dean could be made happy, however briefly, by alcohol and sexual satisfaction. _The alcohol has already been supplied_ , Cas thought, amused. But Dean had commented that even though this display of the human female body would be used for future pleasuring, the results were not immediate.

 _I_ am _able to assist him._  


The thought had Castiel’s heart pounding. He gazed down at the slightly trembling hands in his lap, attempting not to catch Dean’s attention by openly staring at him. Cas had pulled Dean from Hell, had put him back together, piece by piece. He  _knew_ Dean. Which meant he knew Dean’s “hot spots”. Now that Castiel was aware of what hot spots were, he was unable to stop imagining placing his hands and his lips over and across Dean’s. The thought was nice (more than nice, but that revelation would come later), as Cas’ intentions were to bring Dean happiness.   
Castiel stared at spot where Dean’s jawline met his neck, right under his ear. He understood that the act he was about to do was not usually accepted in public places, and so he planned his strategy carefully.  


Cas moved closer towards Dean, his body angled to where he was sitting sideways in his chair, and leaned in. He carefully placed his right hand on Dean’s mid-thigh and brought his mouth to Dean’s ear.

“Are you enjoying yourself?” He asked, allowing his lips to brush against Dean’s sensitive skin. When he heard Dean’s sharp gasp, Castiel felt heat rush to his lower regions. The sensation began to sweep over Cas as he pressed his lips against Dean’s neck in the form of what he thought was an acceptable kiss. A deep moan escaped Dean’s throat, fueling Cas’ heat even further. He had to be closer. He desired _more_.

Dean suddenly pulled away from Cas, his eyes wide and confused. Guilt washed over Cas, effectively extinguishing the heat inside him, as he realized he had gone too far.

“Cas, what the hell?” he asked. Castiel expected more anger, but Dean merely stood up and walked away from the table and towards the exit. Castiel, regretting his actions more with every step took, quickly followed him.

\---

“That wasn’t... _normal_. You can’t just do something like that on a whim, Cas.” Dean paced back and forth in front of the angel, who was sitting at the end of one of the motel beds. He felt like a child being scolded by a parent, and the indignation of that situation did nothing to help him feel better.

“I understand. It was an accident,” Castiel mumbled. He kept his eyes on the ground as Dean stared at him. The silence was uncomfortable.

“It...it was an accident? You...kissing me?” Dean questioned carefully. Cas nodded curtly. He didn’t want to lie to Dean again, but he had no choice. This was already affecting the previous intentions of the vacation.

“I was merely trying to converse with you over the loud music. Because of my position, my chair began to tip, affecting my balance. Kissing you was indeed an accident,” Cas attempted to convince Dean. He finally looked up into Dean’s eyes and held his gaze. After a few moments, Dean nodded.

“Alright,” he said, heading towards the other motel bed. He sat down on its edge, effectively making it creak under his weight. “That never happened.” He pulled off his boots clumsily, the alcohol still present and active in his system. Cas watched as Dean began to unbutton his shirt, failing with each attempt. He grunted in frustration as he continued to try and undress with inaccurate fingers. Cas sighed, vaguely amused.

“Here.” Cas joined Dean at the end of his motel bed and moved Dean’s hands away from the front of his shirt. He began to undo it one button at a time. “Your drunken state isn’t helping your coordination,” he stated, glancing up at Dean’s face every few syllables. As he neared the the bottom of the shirt, Dean grabbed his wrist, effectively halting his progress. Castiel looked up to see Dean regarding him with what seemed like desire, intensity blazing in his bright, green eyes.

“Cas...” Dean whispered. Cas’ pulse increased exponentially, a sensation he was unsure he’d ever become accustomed to. Dean’s eyes traveled across Castiel’s chest and back up again. He raised a hesitant hand to Castiel’s face, gently tracing lines from the bottom of his ear and down his neck with his callused fingertips. Castiel’s breath caught in his throat and his cock twitched, another foreign sensation. Castiel knew at that moment that what he did in the den was inappropriately timed, but the action, the _feeling_ , had been right.

  He felt the air around him rise in temperature, and as Dean closed the gap between them, Cas wondered if this really was Dean, or if it was his inebriated state of mind. The very same thoughts vanished as their lips ghosted against each other.

_Closer._

As Castiel moved forward, Dean suddenly slipped from his grasp, landing softly onto the bed. Unconscious.

Cas couldn’t deny the sense of disappointment that settled inside him. He sighed and finished unbuttoning Dean’s shirt, casting it to the floor. He decided it would be inappropriate to strip Dean of his undershirt and pants as well, and so he slid the man to the head of the bed and shut off the room’s light.

Angels rarely slept. It was simply an uncommon occurrence. As he laid down onto his back in the other motel bed, head still buzzing from Dean’s touch, Castiel focused his eyes on the ceiling. Dean breathed deeply in his sleep, the sound lulling the angel into a sense of calm. It was...nice. Was that the correct adjective for what he was feeling? Cas found it interesting that he was feeling anything to this extent at all.

The series of events from the night replayed in his mind continuously, and no matter many times he thought about the moment in the den or the moment in this motel room, blood surged and goosebumps prickled, his cock would twitch and he would nearly whisper Dean’s name. Castiel questioned whether this was in the same likeness as a sexual fantasy.

No. Dean had mentioned that a fantasy was imagined; it was recollecting all the situations, the sensations, that caused the heat deep within one’s core. Castiel decided that an attempt was necessary, and he then allowed his mind to wander.

He found himself thinking of Dean’s lips and fingertips, of his hot breath against his skin, and Castiel felt his member stiffen. He remembered the element of physical contact, and so he hesitantly reached down into his boxers and palmed his growing erection. His arousal was not proximal to his peak, but the contact helped considerably. Castiel knew the fundamentals of the process of masturbation, and so he tentatively began rubbing his cock. The friction sent jolts of electricity and ecstasy shooting through his body as a quiet moan escaped his mouth.

The voicing of his pleasure reminded Cas of how Dean moaned when he had traced his lips over his sensitive skin. He repeated the memory of that sound in his head, causing a flood of heat in his lower abdomen and a hitch in his breathing. His erection strained against his pants, and so he freed it from its restraint. The sudden exposure to the cold air sent chills down his spine. Castiel tentatively wrapped his hand around his cock, stroking in earnest only as he began to imagine kissing, licking, and biting Dean’s neck while the man writhed and moaned beneath him. The heat within him rose, his cock starting to throb in his hand.

His breathing quickly turned into panting as he increased the pressure and speed around his member, and suddenly it was _Dean’s_ lips and tongue over _his_ body, Dean’s hands roaming down his chest and further down still...

“ _Dean_ ,” Castiel moaned. The notion of Dean waking up to find him mastubating created a brief flicker of fear in Castiel that was quickly swallowed by the mounting pleasure. Castiel was imagining Dean’s hands working on his cock, bringing him ever closer to his climax.

“Mmmmmfff,” Castiel mumbled under his breath. His moans quickly filled the motel room as his fantasy jumped to Dean licking his cock from the base to the tip, his hot breath so tantalizingly close. The thought of Dean enclosing his mouth around it, all heat and lips and tongue, caused Castiel’s hips to buck up off the bed. The heat in his abdomen boiled and Cas felt himself slipping as he neared the edge. Mouth hanging open and spilling desperate whispers, Castiel stroked his cock twice more.

“Ohhhh-oh, _Dean_!” he cried, his vision exploding into white. He came across his chest, his hips still bucking as he rode out his orgasm. Castiel clutched at the bed’s worn sheets in an attempt to stay grounded, the unexpected physical response sending his mind reeling. When his seed was spent, Castiel finally let go of his member and laid still against the bed, the only movement being his heaving, sweat-clad chest.

After a few moments, his breathing slowed considerably. He risked a glance over to where Dean slept, but he was still in slumber, his snores filling the still air. He had been _incredibly_ inebriated.

The thought made Castiel laugh, a sound still foreign to his own ears, and as his body went limp and his eyelids started to droop, Cas reveled in the sensation of what the humans called the “after-glow”. Or, as Dean had defined it, “smooth sailing”. He reasoned that he could become accustomed to this standard of bliss.  

As he began to drift into sleep, alarms sounded off in his head. His mind attempted to alert him to the strangeness of the occurrence of this self-indulgent bliss. It was also an uncommon act among the angels of Heaven. Something was amiss...out of place. An unknown force was in motion, but as Castiel slipped into sleep, the problem would have to be confronted in the morning.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Please leave comments and kudos, and share, if you feel so inclined. :-)
> 
> More to come soon!


	2. Part 2 - The Other Side of the Coin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How is Dean handling this "vacation" so far?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes! Another update! I hope you all are enjoying the story so far. Part 3 is where things really start rolling, so keep that in mind as you read Part 2. Indeed, it's now switching to Dean's POV, where it'll stay for the majority of the story. Happy reading!

_ Dean was laying on his bed, eyes closed and facing the ceiling, when he felt the mattress sink around him under another’s body weight. He counted four separate depressions: two on either side of his shoulders, and two on either side of his hips. He sensed a warm presence above him, but didn’t open his eyes. He let the warmth engulf him as soft lips brushed across his, never sealing a kiss. Just  there . Waiting._

 

_Strong hands pulled him deeper into the warmth, gentle but wanting, and the whisper of his name had electricity shooting out of his core and through his entire body. He felt a sudden rush of desire as naked skin made contact with his. He didn’t know when he had become exposed, nor did he care as the body slid against him, heat building with every passionate breath of his name. Dean. Dean._

 

_He finally opened his eyes to meet brilliant blues, deep, wide; swallowing him, drowning him. He tried to remember to breathe, but it didn’t matter as Castiel’s lips crashed into his. He sucked on Dean’s lower lip and explored his mouth with his eager tongue, a silent desperation forming with each kiss. Lust scorched through Dean’s veins as their hips continued to steadily rock into each other, the passionate whispers turning into unbidden moans as they neared their climaxes; the very peak. They were climbing together, their mouths open, searching and honest, filtering out gasps and heated gusts of air, until they were there, clutching each other as waves of desire washed over and under, around and through, until Dean didn’t know which way was up. Castiel’s body hung loose over him, his pale skin littered with sweat, bruises, and scratches. Those blues found his eyes once again, shining and crinkled from the broadening grin spreading across his face, and Dean felt a fluttering in his chest as those soft lips approached his-_

Dean suddenly shot straight up in bed, panting and sweating, his eyes nervously darting around the rundown motel room. He froze as he felt his erection pressed painfully against the restraint of his jeans, too shocked as to why it was there in the first place. Since when did he have fucking wet dreams about guys? No, not just a guy,  _Castiel_ . A fucking angel. And since when did his wet dreams come out of a fucking romantic novel?

Dean glanced over at Castiel’s sleeping form, and his breath caught in his throat. Cas was a  _mess_ ; his dark hair stuck out at impossible angles, his limbs tangled in the bed sheets, his tie laying askew on the carpeted floor, and his dress shirt rode up his chest, exposing his belly.

_A hot mess_ , his mind jarred. His cock twitched excitedly, and Dean groaned in exasperation, rubbing his hands across his face in an attempt to will his arousal away. Cas looked like sex, and it was definitely  _not_ helping.

Panic rocked Dean to his core as he stared wide-eyed at Cas, his hand over his mouth. Fragments of the night before rushed into his brain. Dean had been drunk; very drunk. He and Cas...they were here, so close and warm and almost kissing and....

Nothing. Black. Dean’s breathing became erratic. What if he and Cas had done something? What if that wasn’t some random-ass wet dream? What if they’d actually....

“Shit.”

Dean threw the musty covers off of him and stood next to Castiel’s bed. He grabbed the angel’s shoulder, shaking him violently.

“Cas. Cas, wake up, man,” he pleaded. Castiel didn’t budge, and for a few terrifying moments, Dean thought something was wrong. “Cas!”

Castiel’s eyes shot open at the shout, brief flickers of fatigue and confusion skittering across those blues, before turning impassive. He looked over Dean once before speaking.

“Dean? What is the matter?” he asked quietly. Cas’ voice was low and gravelly, sending another excited twitch to Dean’s penis. He ignored it, his mind frayed and boggling at the prospect that he and Cas might have actually... _done it_ . 

“Did we...did we do anything last night?” he stammered, his hands balled into tight fists at his sides.

“Of course,” Cas replied. Dean visibly shuddered, but Cas continued. “We visited that...club, as you call it. You became very inebriated.”   
Dean did not relax. “What about after?” he managed to get out.

“We returned here, and you passed out. I removed the shirt you were trying to take off yourself and placed you in bed.”

Dean stood stock still. “Anything...else? We didn’t...” Dean tried to express what he meant, pointing his finger back and forth between them. Castiel tilted his head, and 

Dean sighed. He tried to find words other than, ‘Did we fuck last night?’, but his mind decided to be difficult. He formed motions with his hands, trying to reach that ignorant angel brain, but Castiel continued to stare. Dean huffed in frustration, running a hand down his face.   


“Cas, did we have sex last night?” He finally blurted out. Cas’ eyes went wide as he sat up in bed. His stare seemed to touch Dean’s soul, and Dean felt incredibly exposed, heat creeping up his neck.    


“No,” Cas answered stiffly. “Absolutely not.”   


Dean thought he would relax, but he only tensed more, a frown burrowing deep on his forehead. Was that meant as an insult? Castiel seemed to realize what he was thinking, and rolled his eyes.    


“Dean, I did not mean that you are...undesirable. I simply meant-”

“Yeah, Cas, I get it.” He sighed. Suddenly remembering the bulge in his pants, heat spread to Dean’s cheeks. Cas surely would have noticed it by now. Fuck.

“I’m getting a shower. I need to go out and get a drink,” He grumbled, grabbing some clothes out of his bag and headed towards the bathroom.

“But Dean, it isn’t even time for lunch yet.”

“Well, tough. Looks like we’re eating it early.”

\---

“Hey, do I know you from somewhere?” Dean gripped his glass tighter. It was barely noon, and this son-of-a-bitch must have already drunk too much; enough to be an asshole. 

“How many times do I have to say ‘no’ to you?” Dean asked, putting on his best fake smile. He didn’t know if the guy was hitting on him, or just being annoying, but he did know he wanted him to leave.

The guy’s eyes widened, and he stumbled a bit. “Dude! You’re fucking Brian! From that Homorazzi site!”

_What the fuck was Homorazzi?_

“Man, can I take a picture with you? My boyfriend has the biggest crush on you!”

Dean pursed his lips and thought about how many punches this guy could take to the face, but the man already had his iPhone out. He briefly wondered how he could afford it, because it seemed he spent all his money on booze. The man reached his arm around Dean and aimed the phone to take the picture, but it was reversed and all they saw was the crowded bar in front of them.

“What? I thought...hold on, Brian, my man. I just have to figure out how to make the camera look our way...”

Dean’s patience grew thin as he stared at the camera, waiting for the guy to take the damn picture and leave already. A gleam at the bar caught his eye, and his body tensed.

_Well, so much for time off._

The drunk finally took the picture, and Dean shoved him away. Unaffected, besides a bit of stumbling, the man smiled as he weaved through the crowd, away from Dean and Castiel’s table.

“Cas, listen up,” Dean leaned over to whisper to Castiel, all business. “There’s a skinwalker over at the bar.”

Dean could feel Cas stiffen, but he didn’t move otherwise. “Woman, cropped red hair, surrounded by those bikers. You go outside, into the alley, and wait for me to come out with her.”

Cas turned his face towards Dean, their noses a couple inches apart, and Dean suddenly found it hard to breathe. Whatever the hell that meant.

“How do you intend to make her follow you outside the bar?” he questioned. Dean leaned back and grinned.

“With my charm and good looks, what else?” Castiel huffed in amusement as he left the table to head outside. Dean watched after him before quickly returning his attention towards the bar. The skinwalker was clever, to hide in a crowd. The girl was young, her flaming red hair short and cropped into a small mohawk, various tattoos and piercings decorating her body. Dean admitted that she was pretty smokin’, but felt a twinge of nausea as he remember that this thing was walking around in practically stolen skin.

He sighed, observing the five men around the girl, all dressed in leather jackets, with piercings and tattoos like her. They were drinking and talking noisily, and Dean wondered if they really knew what she was. Chugging the last of his beer, Dean inhaled deeply and set off towards the bar.

As he approached the girl, the men turned into a blockade of solid muscle, preventing him from reaching her. He made a single shake of his head, leaning his elbow onto the bar’s sticky surface.

“Hey, guys, I just wanted to talk to that lovely lady, so if you’ll excuse me.” The men didn’t move. Dean blinked a few times before continuing. “What are you guys, her body guards? I just wanted to-”

“Move aside, boys. Lemme see him.”

The men seemed to move in one uniformed movement, clearing the way enough for the girl to look at Dean. And boy, did she _look_ . He felt like he was under an X-ray machine, her green eyes piercing as she scanned his body from head to toe. She finally looked up into his face, her lips slack with disinterest.

“No thanks, macho man,” she said, bringing her attention back to her sweating glass of whiskey. Dean’s mouth moved to form words, but no sounds came out. He laughed half-heartedly, staying at the counter.

“Why not? You swinging for the other team?” he questioned, eyeing her down. She turned her head, her tinted eyebrow raised.

“I should ask you the same question.”

Dean felt his mouth fall open, but quickly closed it, heat already rising up his neck. “Excuse me?”

The girl huffed a laugh. “Well, isn’t it obvious? Just by your stance, I can tell you’re overcompensating for your masculinity. You walk over here, cocky, brimming with unjustified self-confidence, using techniques that would only get you the easiest girls, and if we should place bets on the shade of red you’re turning, I’d say that you’re struggling with your sexuality because there’s something around you, near to you, that’s become a constant reminder that you may not be swinging for the same team anymore. Have I got it close?”   

Dean gaped at her. She huffed again. “I’m going to take that as a yes. Thanks for the effort, handsome, but you’re really not my type of man.”

Dean was stunned. How could she have known all that about him, by just _looking_ at him? The men around her eventually went back to drinking and socializing, and Dean had no choice but to head back to his table. Except, instead of sitting, he continued past it and out the door of the building, turning to head into the alley, where Cas was waiting.

“I assume that you were not successful in your attempts to charm the creature into following you out here.”

“Shut it, Cas,” Dean barked. He paced for a few moments, sorting through strategies, searching for a plan of action. “Okay, so this skinwalker basically has a group of oversized bouncers to protect her, and the only way, I think, to get to her is to catch her interest...”

“She did not find you interesting?” Castiel asked, tilting his head and staring at Dean, as if the thought was not possible. Dean felt a weird sensation in his stomach, but he shook it off, spitting out a hard laugh.

“Yeah, I guess not. And if I try again, she’s going to see straight through my bullshit.”

“Then we need another participant. I suppose I am the only other option.”

Dean tried not to laugh, he really did, but it spilled over his lips anyways. Cas furrowed his brow in annoyance, and Dean attempted to hide his smile. “Cas, dude, no offense, but I don’t think you’re her ‘type of man’.”

Castiel seem to consider this before speaking. “Yes, I understand. But why not use a disguise?” Dean’s eyebrows rose. He hadn’t thought of that. He rolled the idea around in his mind, smiling and nodding as he headed down the alley towards the parked Impala.

“Yeah, that could work! We’re not going to let this skinwalker skip town so easily. Don’t worry, Cas,” he grinned, wrapping his arm around the angel’s shoulders when he’d caught up with him. “I’ll have you looking like a badass in no time.”

\---

“Come on, Cas, you’re worse than a girl. What’s taking you so long?”    


“I...I feel rather uncomfortable in this attire.”

“Seriously? How are jeans, Chucks, and an old t-shirt not comfortable?”   


“I meant to imply that I am not familiar with this style. I feel...”   


“Can it on all the feelings, Cas. You really are starting to sound like a girl. It’s just temporary, so hurry up and get your ass out here.”    


Dean waited for Cas to come out of the thrift store’s changing room, tapping his foot to the music filtering through the place’s intercom. If Cas didn’t hurry, they would miss their chance of catching the skinwalker. It had already interrupted his vacation time, so there was no way in hell he was going to let it go.    


He almost didn’t realize Cas sliding out of the stall, mainly because he’d barely  _recognized_ the guy. He wore an old pair of black Converses, form fitting blue jeans, a leather jacket, and a gray AC/DC shirt, his tufted hair and facial stubble only adding to the look. Dean’s stomach flipped as he stared at him, unable to tear his gaze away. He may be damned, but Cas looked....he looked...  


“How do I look?” Castiel inquired, holding his arms out in a way that said ‘What the hell am I doing in these clothes?’. Dean couldn’t create a coherent response, and so he just whistled.    


“Damn, Cas” he laughed, grazing his eyes up and down Castiel’s figure, and the angel’s face reddened. He walked over to a mirror on the wall, observing himself, and Dean couldn’t help but notice the way the jeans hugged his hips, or the way the thin t-shirt gave evidence to the muscular form underneath. His mouth was suddenly dry.    


Cas turned around and sauntered up to Dean, personal boundaries apparently forgotten (again), and Dean felt his heart rate pick up. He stared into Castiel’s bright, blue eyes, full of curiosity, as he seemed to inch closer towards him, like a gravitational pull. Dean briefly wondered what it would be like to surrender to that pull, to close the distance between him and Cas, and honest to God, it thrilled him, causing his nerves to tingle.    
__

_What the hell am I doing?_

“Uh, here, Cas,” he sputtered, placing his arm in the rapidly decreasing space between them. Cas glanced down and picked up a pair of Aviator sunglasses from Dean’s hand, holding them as if they were artifacts to be studied. Dean cleared his throat, awkwardly shifting away from Cas. “Now she won’t be able to resist you.”

 ---

“I’ll go back in the bar and sit down at a table, and you can just walk in a few minutes later. I don’t think she saw you with me earlier, so you should be in the clear. Just put on the old Dean charm, and she should be begging for your attention.”   


Castiel frowned, the sunlight reflecting off of his sunglasses. “If I implement your strategies, I would achieve nothing, the evidence being why we have to do this in the first place.”    


Dean scowled at him. “Well, alright, Sean Connery, how do you intended to woo the lady?”   


“I suppose...I will just be myself, but with a few variations,” he answered, his voice changing by the end of the sentence. It was deeper, if that was possible, and a bit more relaxed and smooth. Dean’s eyebrows rose. Cas should not be able to sound that sexy.  
__

_Sexy, huh? You really are swinging for the other team._   


Dean ignored the voice in his head, justifying his choice of adjectives by claiming it was normal to think of another man that way without actually being gay. Just look at Dr. Sexy. No one ever questioned Dean’s sexuality over that. At least, he didn't think so...   


He cleared his throat. “Well, go get ‘em, tiger. I’ll be there for backup. Remember, just bring her out to the alley; we’ll take care of her there.”    


Castiel suddenly looked shaken, and Dean was sure if it were not for the sunglasses blocking them, he would see Cas’ eyes widen. “Dean, I do not actually know how to woo a woman. I have some basic understanding of the interactions between humans and the effects of pheromones, but-”    


“Cas, slow down! You’ll be fine. I’m sure some of that natural charm will shine through.” He sounded more hopeful than he felt.

\---

Dean had to hand it to him. Cas was actually getting the job done. The girl was laughing, giving him the once-over more than once (Dean stopped counting after ten), and as Castiel talked, her attention was completely focused on him. Dean felt a weird pang in his chest when she started touching him, flirting, gaining ground, hoping for more. He shook his head; the plan was working, the girl’s bodyguards were nowhere to be seen, and they would have this skinwalker dead by the end of the day. Then, finally, Dean could go back to enjoying his vacation.    


Several minutes passed, and Dean sat there, watching, occasionally sipping his beer, when the girl was suddenly moving towards the door, Castiel in tow. Dean knew Cas could handle it, that he had a silver knife with him, that he could get the job done. What he didn’t know was why he, despite that, couldn’t let Cas go out there by himself. Dean stood up and rushed out the door, catching the sight of red hair hurrying around the corner and into the alley.    


Dean slowed down, carefully making his way toward the corner, giving Cas time to finish the job. Still, the yearning sense in the back of his skull burned, pushing him forward and into the alley. Dean froze in place as he watched Cas and the girl making out against an old brick wall. Castiel was pushing her against the building, their lips and teeth clashing, their hands groping and clinging, and when Cas bent to suck on her neck, eliciting a moan from the girl’s parted mouth, Dean broke. Anger, jealousy, whatever the hell was going on inside him, exploded and fueled him as he raced forwards, knife in hand.    


Somehow, the skinwalker saw it coming, and pushed Castiel off of her and into Dean’s full-forced run, their colliding bodies cracking at impact, making them fall to the grime covered ground. Dean looked up to see the creature smiling down at him, and completely vanish before his eyes. He frowned, blinking rapidly as he scanned the alleyway for her.   


“Since when do skinwalkers use a fucking disappearing act?” Dean coughed out, attempting to get off the pavement. Cas basically flew up off the ground, nearly knocking Dean back down.    


“What the hell was that?” Castiel questioned, anger spilling over his usual stoic visage. “I had her right where I wanted her.”   


Dean glared at him, wiping blood from his mouth with the back of his hand. “Yeah, I could see that.”    


Castiel sighed impatiently. “Dean. I was manipulating her most basic carnal desires. It was proving effective until you interrupted.”    


“I was looking out for your ass. How did I know that she wasn’t the one doing the manipulating?”    


“That is besides the point. We had a set plan, and you ruined it. Something caused you to act brashly. What was it?” Cas stared him down, but Dean looked away and scoffed.

“Whatever, man. Last time I try to save your sorry ass.” Dean stalked off down the alley towards the Impala.

After a moment, Cas followed. When Dean tried to open the car door, Cas stopped him, turning him around and pressing gently against him so that Dean was essentially trapped between the car and the angel. Cas’ face had softened, and the coastal wind blew through his hair, making the tufts stick out more than normal. 

“Dean. I realize that you were trying to help me. But your actions were ineffective for our teamwork.”

Dean should have been paying attention, but all he could feel was Cas’ body heat pressing him into the cool steel of the Impala, the pressure of his hands on Dean’s chest like heavy weights. The softness in his voice wasn’t helping, as Dean felt heat pool down to his groin, making him half-hard. Dean wanted to panic, to push away these sensations that Castiel was making him feel, but he couldn’t with the way Cas was staring at him; _into_ him. With difficulty, Dean attempted to focus again.

“Maybe we will be able to catch the creature-”

“No, man,” Dean interrupted, shaking his head. “It’s gone. I saw it disappear, and I doubt it’ll be back. Somehow it knew; it knew we were there to kill it. Something weird is going on, but until we catch another lead, it’s pointless.” Dean looked Cas over, their bodies still nearly pressed together, and Dean suddenly visualized Castiel pushing _him_ against the wall, kissing and biting along his skin. Desire pulsed down to Dean’s growing erection. “Uh...how about we head back to the motel?” he asked, wincing at how suggestive it sounded to his fraying brain. “I feel like I need another shower.”

Cas nodded, finally maneuvering himself off of Dean and around to the passenger’s side of the car. Dean was finding it hard to breathe again.

\---

The shower’s hot water poured down onto Dean, the heat welcoming as it soothed his aching, and probably bruised, body. It also helped ease the throbbing of his erection, which was growing steadily in the steam. As he wrapped his hand around it, he sighed resignedly, allowing his mind to flood with images of Cas. 

The heat began to swallow him as Dean continued to stroke his cock, imagining Castiel rutting against him in an alleyway, with that ridiculously hot outfit on. He imagined Cas kissing him thoroughly, his tongue adventurous and his teeth quick to bite and nip. The water of the shower was suddenly wet, passionate kisses, and Dean’s body tingled as a soft moan escaped his panting mouth. The heat increased, the moisture around his throbbing cock making the most arousing sounds as he continued to stroke firmly. He grazed the head of his cock with thumb, Dean instantly fantasizing that it was Cas’ tongue. He gripped onto the shower wall, and it was suddenly Castiel’s mouth around his erection, bobbing quickly and accurately, his tongue flicking and massage the head, and fire boiled in Dean’s gut.

“Oh, _Cas_ ,” he moaned, biting his lip. He couldn’t be too loud, otherwise Castiel would hear.

 _Let him hear me. Let him know how much I want this._   

Dean tried to silence his moans, but it became rather difficult as his pace increased. He could feel the beginnings of his orgasm build inside him, his toes curling as he whispered breathy moans. He began rocking his hips, pumping into his hand instead of stroking, and oh _God_ , did this feel good. He held onto the wall for support as he thrusted into his hand, his breathing hitched as he climbed higher and higher. Dean shuddered out a gasp as his dream from the night before crashed into his mind, filling it with images that had Dean teetering close to the edge.

He saw Cas writhing underneath him as their hips bucked against each other rhythmically, Cas tight around him, bringing him closer. His pupils were blown, his lips ruddy from kissing, and desire was etched in every corner of his face as Dean rocked into him. Their mouths hung together, breathing in each other’s heated moans and gasps as pleasure surged through their bodies, fingernails claiming purchase into flesh. Castiel’s flesh. Something so simple, yet so stunningly beautiful, and he cried Dean’s name, and Dean was there, at the peak.

“Uhhhhnnn, Cas, _Cas_ !” he shouted, unable to keep himself grounded as his orgasm pulsed through every inch of him, leaving his breathless and shuddering. He felt the warm, lazy bliss of his after-glow bubbling up inside him, until sheer panic froze him in place. He had literally shouted Cas’ name.

He stood still with terror as he heard noises at the door, and felt cool air rush in as it was opened.

“Dean? I thought I heard you call me. Are you alright?” Castiel asked. Nothing in his tone suggested that he had heard the real reason to why Dean was essentially yelling . Dean felt himself blush, not trusting himself with words so soon after his orgasm. “Dean?” He thought he heard Cas approach the curtain, and he instinctively stepped back into the wall.

“Yes! Cas, yes, I’m fine. Thanks. No, I didn’t call your...name.” Dean gulped in a breath of steam, feeling dizzy.

_Just leave, damn it!_

“Okay,” Cas replied quietly, closing the door as he left. Dean slumped against the slick, moisture-clad wall, his heart thundering in his ears. He closed his eyes, willing himself to calm down.

_I really need this vacation._

_  
_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor Dean-o. Please remember to comment/give kudos! More to come soon, so stay tuned! :-)
> 
> Oh, and by the way, the whole thrift store scene was kind of inspired by this picture of Misha (it's probably my favorite one of him): http://24.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_m1d3scmgnM1qzmdtdo1_500.jpg  
> Blame everything (especially sexual frustration) on him.


	3. Part 3 - Mutual Misunderstanding

“Cas, are you seriously going to the beach in  _that_?”   


Dean stopped at the door of the bathroom, and nearly laughed at the angel. Castiel tilted his head, looking down at his regular ensemble, complete with rumpled trenchcoat.

“I had assumed that humans found it important to cover their bodies as a means of protection against the ultraviolet radiation from the sun. I was trying to...fit in.” 

A sense of endearment filled up inside Dean as he tried to keep from smiling. Cas was acting too cute. Wait, what?

_Cute? What the hell? Winchesters don’t do cute!_

Dean frowned, walked over to Cas, and handed him a pair of blue swim trunks. “Dude, that’s what most people consider a hobby. They soak up the rays and get tan.” Cas tilted his head again. “A lot of people find it attractive.”

“Do you find it attractive, Dean?” Cas asked, curious eyes burning into his. Dean cleared his throat.

“Here, just put those on as I get dressed. You’ll stick out like a sore thumb wearing that,” he commented, gesturing to Cas’ outfit. He walked back to the bathroom and shut the door, where he quickly changed into his own bathing suit. He left his clothes in a discarded pile on the tiled floor, took a moment to admire himself in the mirror, then turned to open the door. His hand hesitated on the handle.

“Hey, Cas? You done, man?” He did _not_ want to step out and see the guy naked.

_Actually..._

“Yes, Dean.”

Dean opened the door and stepped out into the room, his breath catching in his throat. He gazed stupidly at Castiel, his toned figure striking in the blue swimsuit. His chest was all flat planes, sloping out at the connection of his shoulders and arms, which, although merely toned, were incredibly strong. It was the first time Dean had really seen Cas exposed, since the guy was normally covered head to toe. Dean felt heat creep up his neck as he watched Cas inspect his figure, a glint in his eye.

“This beach wear...it suits you, Dean,” he acknowledged, a small smile playing on his lips. Dean’s pulse increased dramatically. He shifted uncomfortably, clearing his throat again.

“You too, Cas.” They stared at each other for a few seconds before Dean had the itch to run away. “Alright!” he exclaimed, clapping his hands together once. “Time to finally kick off this vacation!”

He grabbed his towel and few essentials, and raced off towards the motel room door, Cas only a couple of steps behind him.

\---

“You really can’t swim?”

“I didn’t say that I was unable to, I merely have never attempted it.”

Dean stared at Cas incredulously. “Well, you’re missing out.”

“I am not sure if I am comfortable with getting in the water.”

“Look around you,” Dean implored, gesturing to all the people relaxing and enjoying Baker Beach. “You’re going to look weird if you don’t get in.”

“There are many people resting upon the sand, Dean. I do not think I would stick out.” Cas froze as the tide passed up over his feet, staring at it challengingly as it receded back into the sea. “It is trying to seduce me into its depths.”

Dean nearly fell over into the wet sand, his sides aching with laughter. “Cas...come on, man...” he said, attempting to catch his breath. “If something happens in the water, you can use your superpowers to get out, okay?”

“Dean, I’ve told you, they’re not superpow-”

Castiel was interrupted as Dean wrapped his arm around the angel’s waist, hoisting him up and carrying him into the water, where he deposited him with a splash. Dean laughed as Cas emerged from the water, his hair flat against his head. He smirked, and Dean heard a rush of wind before being tackled down into the water, the angel’s arms tight around his waist. He felt like a quarterback being sacked as water rushed around him, a bit dazed as he surfaced. He and Cas were floating in the water, and Dean felt the coolness of the deep wrap around his toes. He noticed they were a now a good thirty to forty feet from the shore.

“That’s cheating, Cas! I know you used some wing power back there,” he nagged, smiling. Castiel smiled back, full blown with shining teeth, the blueness of the ocean reflecting off his eyes in a brilliant hue. Dean’s heart fluttered against his ribcage as he neared Cas, until there was about a foot between them.  

“Well, I guess you can swim,” he commented lamely. Cas only continued smiling.

_He’s waiting, Winchester. Just grow a pair and do something._

Dean continued to float, heart beating wildly, his mind buzzing and unsure of what to do next. A freak wave pushed against the current and made him collide into Castiel, his arms resting on his shoulders as the angel’s hands wrapped around his chest in order to support him in the water.

They were incredibly close, their bodies pressed against each other, their noses only an inch apart. Dean was sure Cas could feel his heart hammering in his chest. Cas dropped his gaze towards Dean’s lips, and before Dean’s brain could register what was about to happen, Castiel’s lips pressed gently against his. Dean felt his world stop and his heart rate skyrocket. This...this felt good. More than good.

No. No, this wasn’t happening. He didn’t feel this way. Absolutely not. He liked curves and breasts, not...

Dean began to panic, his hands gripping Cas’ shoulders, and pushed himself away. Cas stared at him, his expression unreadable. Dean played a small smirk before taking a deep breath and sinking below the waves. He started to swim away from Cas, guilt prickling inside his chest, when the undertow yanked on him and dragged him further out to sea.

Adrenaline pumped through his system as the ocean thrashed him about like a ragdoll. He tried to remain relaxed, but to no avail. Bursts of salt water burned as they shot up his nose and down his throat. His oxygen was diminishing, and his lungs began to ache. He’d have to breathe soon. He wanted to shout for Cas, but was unsure if the angel would hear him. He felt the current continue to take away and down, the chilled depths wrapping around his body. So this was how Dean Winchester was going to die. He was going to drown. In the ocean. While on vacation. Well, fuck.

Just when Dean realized that he couldn’t fight the urge to breath any longer, he felt strong arms circle around him, a sudden rush upwards as the cold became warm, and finally...

Air painfully rushed into his lungs, the sun bright in his eyes, and his brain registered that someone was talking to him.

“Dean! Dean, are you alright? Dean?” Castiel’s voice was rough and desperate as he clung to Dean’s body. Dean’s vision clear and his muscles relaxed as he gulped in air. He sighed and tucked his face into the crook of Cas’ neck.

“Yeah, Cas, I’m fine.”

“Do I need to perform CPR?” he asked, voice serious and edged with concern. Dean chuckled and lifted his head.

“No, Cas, I’m breathing and talking, so I’m okay.”

Cas nodded and let go of Dean, his face composed. Dean ignored the flicker of disappointment in his chest.

“I suppose you want to head back to shore.”

“Yeah, man. I’m starved. I’d rather have a belly full of food than a belly full of seawater,” he joked, running a hand through his hair. A hint of a smile appeared on Cas’ face, and Dean took the opportunity to smile at him before swimming back towards the shore.

\---

“How can you consume so many links of meat in one setting. Especially after almost drowning?” Cas asked, eyeing Dean’s growing hot dog wrapper collection suspiciously. Dean just shrugged.

“I almost die all the time, and that hasn’t stopped me before. A man’s gotta eat. Maybe you’ll understand one day.”

The two of them relaxed on the beach, sitting on their towels as they observed the other beach goers mingling. A tall redhead strolled across the white sand, her long hair moving with the breeze, and Dean stared after her.

“Look at that,” Dean pointed out to Cas, smirking. Cas watched her before moving his gaze towards a couple of younger men kissing in the sand a few yards away. Dean followed his line of sight and quickly swallowed his barely chewed chunk of hot dog.

“That’s, uh, common here...” Dean waited for a reply, but the angel continued to observe them, or catalogue their actions. Whatever. Dean coughed. “It’s impolite to stare,” he mumbled, finishing his last hot dog. Cas finally tore his gaze away to look at Dean.

“Dean, something happened in the water.”

Dean tensed, his heart beating unevenly in his chest. He searched for something to say, like ‘it was an accident; it was just the waves’ or some excuse closely related. “Umm...”

“Something is going on, and we need to figure out what it is.” Dean frowned. Cas sounded...serious. Not only that, but worried. Cas took his silence as a sign to continue.

“My powers aren’t working.”

Dean’s frown deepened. “What? What do mean, ‘not working’? You lose all your mojo?”

“So it seems. Once you were sucked under the ocean, I attempted to follow you through the current, using my wings for the necessary speed. But, my wings would not unfurl.”

“But you used them to tackle me into the water. So, the water couldn’t have affected you.”

“Correct. I had to rely on my strength, which, thankfully, I did not lose.”

“So, what else could have made you lose your mojo? Anything you’ve never done before that could have anger the Heavens?” Dean laughed. He thought he saw Cas turn red as he stared intently into the sand, but he figured it was the sun. “Cas?”

“No,” he replied quickly. Dean nodded, his brow briefly furrowing. He looked over his shoulder to see children running around a beach hut a couple hundred feet from where they were sitting. He suddenly stood up, clapping Cas on the back, and grinned.

“Come on. Let’s go to the arcade.”  

“But we must discover what is causing my powers to not function properly,” Cas protested, staring up at Dean. He squinted his eyes against the sun, and Dean’s grin grew.    


“Yeah, we will, but I want to enjoy this last bit of vacation in case that turns into a whole cross-country search. You need to relax a little. Let’s go,” he pleaded, offering Cas his hand to stand up. The angel gave in and grabbed it, hoisting himself up. When he didn’t let go, Dean glanced around self-consciously.   


“Uh, Cas, you can let go now,” he uttered. Cas seemed to recognize his fault with a small stutter, releasing Dean’s hand.   


“My apologies.”    


“Dude, don’t sweat it. Now let’s get over there before those snot-nosed brats claim all the games.”    


The two quickly shuffled through the hot sand and into the gaming hut, Dean’s eyes going wide as he scanned the room that was filled with numerous arcade modules.    


“This is awesome!” He exclaimed. “I used to play a lot of these when I was a kid. They even have freaking Xbox and stuff here.” He grinned and turned to Cas, who was staring at  him in an awe. “What?”    


“It’s good to see you...happy, Dean,” Cas commented softly, a smile in his eyes. Dean’s heart fluttered again. He quickly changed the subject.    


“Well, here, look, Cas. A two-person fighting game. Play with me.” Dean cringed inwardly at his choice of words.

“Alright,” Cas agreed, walking over to the game with Dean. Dean pushed some money in the slot, and the game powered on.    


“Okay, Cas, this is a strategy game. You and your teammate use hand-to-hand combat against an enemy, but you have to take turns and different team maneuvers against him. Otherwise, the enemy will learn from your attacks and end up killing both of us. These are your controls, and there’s the reference for different combos. Ready?”   


“I think so.”    


“Awesome. Let’s kick ass.”    


Dean and Cas made quick work of the first enemy, using simple tasks and coordinating. Dean nodded at the score. “Not too shabby. Maybe we can do better next round.” As they fought the next few bosses, Dean noticed how they were gradually gravitating closer to each other, the angel’s leg brushing against his own. He glanced at Cas’ focused face and down to his lips, and a sudden rush of excitement and guilt surged through him. Should he have kissed Castiel back? Was he mad at him for basically shoving him away? Did Cas  _like_ him, or was he just curious? Did he like...?   


“Dean, pay attention!” Castiel grumbled beside him. Dean focused back on the screen, only to see the boss throw a sharp uppercut against his character.    


“Aw, shit,” he growled, attempting to save his hide by performing several combos.   


“Wait, Dean, you need to let me-”   


“No, I’ve got this. Let me do this.”    


“But Dean-”   


“Damn it!” he snapped, kicking the arcade console while the boss sneered about his victory. A man peeped around the corner of the row of arcade games to stare at them.   


“Hey, take it easy!” he shouted. Dean flicked him off, letting out a frustrated sigh.    


“We would have won if you were actually paying attention,” Cas commented, looking annoyed. Dean frowned.    


“Oh, yeah? Who was making the crappy combos?”   


“It was my first time playing, Dean.”   


“Yeah, well, get some experience under that belt, and then we’ll argue over how I’m better than you.”   


The man marched up towards them, chewing on his lollipop in aggravation. “Listen, boys, it’s just a game.”    


They looked at him and then back at each other. “The man is right,” Cas agreed. “But at least we know that I am superior in actual battle.” Dean’s brow furrowed deeper.    


“Really, Cas? We’re talking about actual fighting now? If you take away your superpowers, we both know that-”   


“I told you that they’re not superpowers. I am not a comic book character!” Cas huffed, the air around them seeming to shift. Dean smirked.   


“Oh, what, did I ruffle your feathers? Oh wait! They aren’t working!”    


“Alright, enough!” The man shouted, effectively silencing the two. “You guys are starting to give me a headache.” He looked back and forth between Castiel and Dean, an amused gleam in his eyes. “You know, when I decided to start bugging you guys, I thought, ‘Hey, maybe I’ll just shake them around a bit and see if they get it’. But apparently, even after playing this stupid little game,” the man said, pointed to the arcade console, “you guys still don’t get it. What a surprise.”    


“Wait, what do you mean, ‘mess with us’? Who are you?” Dean questioned, approaching closer to the man. He wagged his finger.   


“Nope. I reveal myself to you, I reveal myself to  _him_ ,” he stated, pointing towards Cas. “And I’m not doing that.” Dean grabbed hold of the man’s thin jacket, throwing him against the row of arcade games as Cas stared him down. The man rolled his eyes. “Alright, alright, you’ll figure it out eventually. Just back up out of my personal space.”    


Dean let go of him, and stepped a few paces back. The man smirked, his visage suddenly shifting and glimmering until an entirely different man stood before them.   


“The Trickster?” Dean growled, his body tensed. 

“The one and only.” The Trickster smirked, but rolled his eyes again. “Actually, I-”

“Gabriel,” Cas stated. “The archangel of the Lord.” 

“Yeah.”

“Archangel? Wait, so-”

“Ah, wait just a minute, junior,” Gabriel interrupted Dean. “Save your questions for me later. You’re on my time right now.” Gabriel snapped his fingers, and all the people in the arcade vanished. Dean glanced around before returning his gaze on the smug angel.

“You’ve been playing us?” Dean paused, clenching his fists. “Wait, the skinwalker in the bar? The ocean, too? Cas’ powers? It was all you?”

“Well, duh!” Gabriel laughed. “Of course I’ve been playing you boys. I’m just getting started, too.”

“Why are you doing this, Gabriel?” Castiel questioned.

“To prove a point,” he replied. “Oh, and for fun. Relax, bro. You’re in for a treat.”

“To prove a point? What point?” Dean asked. Gabriel shook his head.

“Ehhhhhhh!” He mimicked a buzzer. “Sorry. You have to figure that out yourselves.”

“Well, now we know you’re here and behind all this, so, we’ll just grab some holy oil and be done with it.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t be so sure. See, you’re in my realm, now. No where near help. And little Castiel here can’t use his powers.” Dean and Cas exchanged a look. “So, guess what? You guys play, you win, then you go home. Or, back on vacation. Whatever.”

“What are the rules?” Cas inquired. Gabriel shrugged nonchalantly.

“Rules change.” He stepped a few feet backwards, winds suddenly gusting around them. Dean held his arm over his face, but Castiel stared straight on, frowning. Gabriel smirked. “Hope you boys are ready, because it’s game on!”

Dean and Cas watched as giant red block letters materialized and hovered over their heads, coinciding with a bodiless voice:

**Ready?**

**5...**

**4...**

** 3...   
**

** 2...   
**

**1...**

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, the real AU thing is that they realize the Trickster is Gabriel now, instead of in "Changing Channels". Of course it would be Gabe; who else? But where is he sending Dean and Cas? You'll see in the next update! 
> 
> Please leave comments/kudos, and thanks for reading! More to come soon. :-)


	4. Part 4 - Far Away, Chapter 1: Welcome to Armadillo

“Hey! Sunshine!”    


Dean groaned, his face skidding across arid dirt as he shifted his head. Pain shot through it and down his neck as he pushed himself onto his back, his vision going red. He realized that it was the sun beating down on his closed eyes, and so he raised his arm to cover them, coughing as dust filled every inhale of air.     


“You know you can’t stay here, right? It’s not good for business to have some drunk passed out in front of my shop.”   


Dean finally opened his eyes, squinting at the shadowed figure standing above him. “Excuse me? I’m not drunk.”    


“Sure you’re not,” the man snorted, standing straight and crossing his arms. “Because everyone and their uncles think it’s fashionable to lay outside of a general store, in the  dirt .”    


Dean sat up, words dying in his mouth as he stared down at his body. “What the-?” He stood up suddenly, ignoring the dizzy sensation it caused him. He boggled at his boots, chaps, and loose-fitted button-up shirt, as he reached a hand up to touch the brim of his hat. “Why do I look like an extra in a John Wayne movie?”    


The man frowned. “A what in a what? Who is John Wayne? A friend of yours?” The man huffed, wiping his hands on his white apron. “Probably a drunkard as well, like Marston.”    


Dean frowned. “You mean you don’t...”    


Everything crashed down on him at once. He glanced around at his surroundings, noting the buildings, the people, and the scattered horses tied to their posts. He looked back down at himself, and then to the man.    


“Where the hell am I?” Dean demanded. The man laughed, shaking his head.   


“I’m sure those all those spirits costed you a pretty penny.” He walked back towards the general store when Dean started after him.    


“Hey, wait a minute. I’m talkin’ to you, mister...uh...” He trailed off.

The older man turned back around. “Herbert Moon.”

“Okay, Herbert. Can you please tell me where I am?” The man raised an eyebrow at Dean.

“You’re in Armadillo, son. City in the New Austin territory.”

Dean mouthed over the words, staring intently at the ground, brow furrowed. Herbert huffed again, crossing his arms.

“If I was you, I’d be figuring out where my horse went.” Herbert stepped into the store, leaving Dean on the wooden porch.

“Wait!” Dean called after him. “Was there someone with me? You know, before I...passed out,” Dean finished, shaking his head. “A man about the same height as me, uh, short, dark hair-”

“There wasn’t no one with you, son,” Herbert interrupted him. “You were seen teetering down the road, drunk, until you pitched over your own feet. You’ve been laying there for hours.”

“And you didn’t think to help me?” Dean questioned, bringing his hand up to touch his chapped, bleeding lips.

“Help you?” Herbert laughed. “How old are you, son? A man learns to take care of himself out here. Besides, I don’t help strangers.”

Dean shook his head and watched the man go behind his counter before turning around, stepping down the wooden steps and into the dirt road. He observed several buildings, such as a doctor’s office and a blacksmith, and noted their fraying structures. Each built out of wood and stone, anyone could see the cracks that threatened their sturdiness. His eyebrows rose as he noticed several bullet holes decorating the outsides of most of the buildings.

“Look out, now!” A man shouted from on top of a horse, riding fast down the street. Dean had to back up to miss being clipped by the beast, who thundered by him and around a corner. Dean shook his head again, rubbing his face with his hands as frustration welled up inside him.

“Gabriel, you son-of-a-bitch,” he muttered, glancing up at the sky. The few clouds sailed across it slowly, the sun mercilessly scorching the Earth. Dean wiped his forehead with the back of his hand, breathing slowly as his mind raced for answers.

He continued to walk down the road until he was just outside the small town. He sighed, placing his hands on his hips, and looked back up to the sky.

“Hey, Cas? I don’t know if you’ve still lost all your angel mojo, but uh, it sure would be nice if you could show up.” Silence. Dean licked his lips, his grip tightening on his hips. “Look, we’ve got a big problem on our hands. I think I know where we are, so if you could just get your ass down here, that’d be-”

“He can’t hear you, Dean.”

Dean spun around to face Gabriel, sitting cross-legged on a rock, the lollipop still in his mouth. Dean stepped up to him, dust kicking up from his boots as he walked, his fists clenched at his sides.

“He’s just as human as you are while you’re here. Well, except for the whole wing thing-”

“And where would ‘here’ be, Gabe?” Dean asked. Gabriel’s eyebrows rose, a smile playing at his lips.

“Oh, so I get a nickname, too?” He joked, rolling the lollipop around in his mouth. “How come I don’t hear the amount of endearment like when you call on your boyfriend?”

“What have you done with Cas?”

“Me?” Gabriel asked, leaping off of the rock to stand in front of Dean.

“Don’t play innocent with me, you son-of-a-bitch. Tell me where the hell he is!”

“Ooo, so demanding!” Gabriel laughed. “I love it when you’re forceful.”

“Gabriel.”

“Yes, dear?”

Dean closed his eyes briefly, nostrils flaring. He was this close to strangling the shit out of this angel. Gabriel rolled his eyes, throwing the lollipop into the dirt.

“He’s here. Well, not here in this town, but in this world. It’s your job to find him.”

“Is that what this is?” Dean barked. “An easter egg hunt for angels?”

“No, of course not. This is just the beginning. The...prologue, you could say,” Gabriel answered, swirling the dirt with the tip of his shoe.

“The prologue to what?”

“The story!” The angel exclaimed. “Duh!”

“What? What story?” Dean pushed. Gabriel’s eyebrows rose again, his mouth slanted in exasperation.

“Come on, Dean-o. Don’t tell me you haven’t figured it out yet?”

Dean’s lips pressed into a firm line. He crossed his arms and looked around them, taking in the barren landscape. “We’re in the Old West...”

“Check.”

Dean glanced back at the small town. “Some place called Armadillo...”

“One of the many places around here, junior.”

Dean frowned, scuffing his boots in the dirt as his mind ached with strain. “Armadillo...Herbert Moon...Marston...” He trailed off, his frown deepening as he looked back at Gabriel. “We’re in a video game?”

“Ding, ding, ding!” Gabriel shouted. “Do you know which one?”

“Yeah. Red Dead Redemption.”

“Bravo! How did ya know? Has Sammy showed you before?”

“I’ve played it, when I had the time,” Dean replied. Gabriel smirked.

“Oh, yeah. You have that weird Western fetish, don’t you?” Dean’s brow furrowed.

“Who told you that?”

Gabriel pulled a flask from his jacket and sipped at it, sighing after he swallowed. “Lucky guess.” He paused, staring Dean down. “So...” He started, rolling his hand in a gesture for Dean to continue.

“So, what?”

“So, what does being in a video game mean?” Gabriel emphasized. Dean pursed his lips.

“There’s an objective.”

“Good.”

Dean shifted his feet. “So, if finding Cas isn’t what I’m here for, then what’s the objective?”

“Ah, ah, ah!” Gabriel wagged his finger. “No cheating. You have to work that out yourself. You’ll get my point eventually, but first you have to recognize the problem. Take this whole thing as a training exercise. You’ll just have to rely on your brain power.” He paced a few steps before stopping. “I’m not placing all my bets on that.”

“So what the hell am I supposed to do?” Dean asked, anger causing heat to flare across his body. Gabriel tsked.

“Dean-o. You’ve played the game. Use your resources. And, just to show what an amazing guy I am,” Gabriel stopped and snapped his fingers. Dean stepped back as a black horse materialized beside him, its coat gleaming in the sun. “There; a couple of guns, some rations, and a mode of transportation. It’s your Baby in horse form.”

Dean’s eyes narrowed as he glanced back and forth between the horse and Gabriel, who rolled his eyes.

“You do realize that this will probably be the only time I’ll help you, right? So you might want to take advantage of it.”

Dean hesitated before approaching it, peering at it cautiously. He smoothed his hand over its coat, the horse neighing in appreciation, and a smirk formed on Dean’s lips.

“Alright,” he replied, hopping up on the horse. He loaded his pistol and placed it in his holster.

“Alright,” Gabriel echoed, turning to leave.

“Hey, wait a minute, smart-ass.” Gabriel turned around, hands in his pockets. “What happens if we die in here? Do we respawn like in a normal game?” Gabriel nodded.

“Nope. You’re a pro at that, aren’t you, Dean-o? Don’t want to make this too easy.” He sneered. Dean aimed his pistol to shoot him, but Gabriel disappeared, leaving nothing but empty air.

Dean slowly placed the gun back in the holster on his hip, turning his horse around to peer at the town of Armadillo. He sighed, knowing full well just how complicated this was going to be.

_Look on the bright side; you’re living out one of your fantasies!_ His mind offered. The thought brightened Dean’s mood considerably. He spurred on his horse down the dirt road, determination building inside him.

\---

Dean sat resignedly in the Armadillo saloon, his third shot of whiskey burning down his throat, its authenticity unquestioned. He had searched every building, asking nearly everyone if they had seen a man that looked remotely like Cas, but nothing. Squat. Zilch. 

He looked up to see the bartender heading his way, probably to ask him to pay, and that was when Dean realized he had no money. Gabriel hadn’t given him any, and there was nothing on his person.

“Fantastic,” he mumbled, turning his body as the bartender approached his table.

“Hey, you the man asking about that blue-eyed fella?” The man asked. Dean’s eyebrows rose as he set his glass down.

“Well, yes sir,” he answered, looking the man in the eye.

“After you left him here early this morning, a few of Walton’s boys took him on out of town. Probably up to no good; they never are,” the man said gravely. Dean stood up from his chair.

“And Walton’s boys would be...”

“Part of his gang,” the man replied, eyeing him. “You’re not from around here, are you?” Dean shook his head.

“So, where would they have taken him?” He asked, his heart rate picking up speed.

_Cas is alright. He’s going to be fine._

“Hard to say. They loot and kill all over New Austin. You’re best bet is up by Rathskeller Fork, past the Ridgewood Farm.”

Dean tipped his hat slightly, nodding at the man. “Thank you, sir.”

The man’s eyes widened, and he pulled his hand up in order to stop Dean from stepping away. “Whoa there, son! You’re not thinking about going after them Walton boys by yourself? Dangerous men, they are. That blue-eyed man would be one lucky dog if he’s survived for this long.”

Dean thought his heart was going to burst from his rib cage. He huffed a laugh, the sound underlined with distress, as his eyes glanced at the dusty, wooden floor.

“Dangerous or not, I need to,” he answered, looking back up at the man. “He’s my friend. I owe him that much.”

The man straightened, nodding curtly. “Well, then, good luck...”

“Winchester,” Dean finished, shaking the bartender’s offered hand.

“Greenwood,” he replied. He motioned to the door. “Give ‘em hell, boy.”

Dean nodded, striding past Greenwood and out the saloon’s door. He jogged up to his horse, untying her before quickly mounting her. He nudged at her sides, directing her past the buildings and out of town. Her hooves kicked up clouds of dust, but Dean managed to read the signs and head down the path to Ridgewood Farm.

“Come on, Baby, let’s see what you can do!” Dean shouted, spurring her into a full gallop. Various bushes and cacti passed them by in a blur, the dry air stinging Dean’s eyes as they sped on. His heart beat wildly in his chest, anxiety overcoming the adrenaline rushing through his veins.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you know anything about Red Dead Redemption, you'll have an idea of what is in store for our boys. However, it will not follow John Marston's story line (he may make an appearance, though). If you are not familiar with the game, I suggest you brush up on the area map and possibly some of the characters, but it won't be vital in reading the story. So no worries.
> 
> Have you ever wanted Dean and Cas in a Western!verse? Well, now you've got it. And it's going to be fun. ;-)
> 
> Please leave comments/give kudos, and thank you so much for reading! I hope you continue to enjoy Dean and Cas' adventure in the Wild West!


	5. Pt4 - Chapter 2: The Trail is Hot, The Water Cold

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- Trigger warning: Suggestions of racism
> 
> \- Translations in end notes

Dean tied his reins firmly around a wooden post next to the house at Ridgewood Farm, his hand scratching fondly on the horse’s snout after he’d finished.   


“Easy, girl,” he soothed. He approached the front steps of the house, eyeing the door skeptically while he practiced exactly what he was going to say to the dwellers in his head.

“Hey, mister. You in need of something?” A young woman asked from behind him. Dean slowly spun around, taking in the girl’s rather ragged form, her hands clutching so hard around the basket she was carrying that her fingers were white.

“I just needed to talk someone here, in case they saw something.”

“What would be that something, sir?” She asked nervously, her tongue darting out to wet her lips. “We have no money, and aren’t harboring no one.”

“I wasn’t going to ask about any of that,” Dean replied, frowning. “I was just wondering if you’ve seen someone I know. Has anyone come through here recently?” 

The girl’s eyes widened, her bottom lip trembling. “Please, sir, don’t do us any harm. We’ve done nothin’ against Walton or his boys.” Dean stepped forward, and the girl flinched.

“So, some of Walton’s boys came through here?” He asked, hushed. His stomach clenched as he waited for the girl’s response.

“You could say that, sir. They killed one of our farmhands,” she whispered. She shook her head, her eyes moist with forthcoming tears. “We can’t lose anymore...please...”

“I’m not here to hurt you,” Dean insisted. “And I’m not one of Walton’s boys, okay?”

“You’re not?” The girl questioned, holding the basket a little tighter. 

“No. Now, did they have a man with them? Dark hair, about the-”

“Oh!” She gasped, her expression turning sad. “That poor man.”

“What? What happened to him?” Dean rushed up to her, his jaw taut. She didn’t move this time, merely continuing to stare at Dean.

“He was alive when they left. That’s all I can offer, sir. I am sorry.” The girl shuffled her feet before glancing at the dirt road that led away from the farm. “He must be terrified, being so far from his home.”

“What do you mean?”

“The man spoke no English. He tried to shout at the men, before they gagged and doubled his binds, and then headed northwest of here.” She looked back at Dean, her face softening. “You must be such a kind soul, looking out for a man away from his people.”

Silence filled the air between them as Dean mauled this information over. He rubbed his face, headache gnawing at the back of his mind, until a distant gunshot shook him from his thoughts. The girl turned around as the sound of galloping horses echoed closer, strands of her straw hair whipping in the breeze.

“Lord in Heaven, hear us now, in this time of need,” she whispered, her body stock still. 

“I don’t think He’s listening, sweetheart,” Dean answered, his hand hovering near the gun holstered at his side. Shouts and whistles filled the air as three men on horses rounded a corner and barreled down the road into the farm. They stopped their horses near one of the pens, smirking as they peered at the workers.

“Are they from Walton’s gang?” Dean whispered to the girl. 

“Hard to say. More likely just thieves passing through.”

“Hey, little darling. Why don’t you shut your pretty mouth before I make you,” one of the men sneered, cantering up to them on his horse. Dean could smell the heavy scent of alcohol and piss wafting off of the thief, his teeth rotten behind snarling lips.

“Dude, you smell awful. Why don’t you do us all a favor and jump in a lake?” 

“You talkin’ to me, boy?” The man hissed, climbing clumsily off of his horse. He took a few steps towards Dean, and Dean rolled his eyes. He really didn’t have time for this.   


“Yeah, I am. Why don’t you stop bothering these good people and be on your way?”   


The man spit in Dean’s direction, a nasty grin spreading across his face. His fingers moved closer to his own holstered gun, and Dean tensed. No way this was gonna end well.   


“These  _good people_ have some obligations due to Walton, so it’s best that you not interfere.”  


Dean glanced out across the farm, taking in the scared faces of the farmhands, and the cruel faces of the gang members. He took a deep breath and stepped over, effectively blocking the young woman from the man’s path.   


“I’m sorry, but I can’t let you do that.”   


The man stared at him for a long moment, the silence breaking as his cackling laughter filled the air, his friends’ joining in his amusement. As they howled and slapped their knees, Dean smirked humorlessly, licking his chapped lips before settling his hand on his revolver. The man took notice, and his smile disappeared as quickly as it came.   


“You challenging me, boy?”   


Dean breathed deep again, attempting to slow his rising heart rate. “Maybe I am.”   


The nasty grin returned, and the man nodded. “Well, let’s have at it.”   


The farmhands and gang members retreated a few yards as Dean and the man stepped out into the middle of the dirt road, preparing for the duel. Dean told himself to relax as he felt shakiness begin at the bottom of his spine.   


_Calm down. You can do this._   


Yeah, it was easy enough to say that, but even after all of the weapons training he’d gone under, this was a different era with different guns, which had different accuracies and strategies of handling. Just fucking different. In the past, there were always close calls in firefights, where he was lucky to make it out. Now, having that kind of luck again, in this situation? Not likely.   


Dean’s fingers twitched, and the man copied the action. Dean squinted, observing the way the man carried himself, and noticed the flaws in his technique. When in the hell did he know about actual dueling technique? The question faded with Dean’s mind as he concentrated, planning his method of attack; he knew exactly where to shoot. The only thing left to consider was  when to-  


Dean saw the flash in the man’s eyes, dangerous but telling, as the man reached for his gun. Everything around Dean seemed to slow down, his arm dragging as he pulled out his revolver and aimed it at the man. Three quick shots were fired, and the man recoiled, causing his own shots to ring out into the desert air. Blood trickled out and down of the bullet holes in his skull and chest, right where his heart would be, and the man crumpled to the ground like a wet tarp, bent and folded as life left him.   


Silence engulfed the farm as Dean holstered his gun. He looked up to stare at the other gang members, the adrenaline pumping in his veins challenging them to test his skill, to see if they could come out of the duel victorious. Soon enough, the others slowly turned their horses and rode down the dirt path and away from the farm, and only then did Dean relax, tension fading down through his limbs.   


The young girl stepped up to Dean, her smile small in comparison to the amount of relief flooding her big eyes.   


“Thank you, sir!” She exclaimed, her arms wrapping around him in a tight hug. “Bless you,” she whispered, and Dean felt a warmth spread through his chest as he returned the embrace gently, his hand patting her back.    


“It’s all part of the job, ma’am.” The girl stepped away from him, her cheeks tinting with the slightest shade of pink. Dean’s eyes carried across the dirty, worn, and relieved faces of the farmhands, and his throat tightened. They looked at him as if he were, what? A hero? A  _savior_ ?  


Dean shifted uncomfortably, the movement causing whiffs of dust to float slowly around his feet. “Well, folks, looks as if it’s my turn to leave.” He turned to look at the young girl. “You said northwest, right?”    


The girl nodded curtly, but her eyes continued to widen. “You’re not going to go after them by yourself, are you?” When Dean nodded, she bowed her head, her hands gripping her dress.   


“I have to,” Dean said after a moment, images of Cas being beaten and mangled by dirtbags like those gang members flitting through his mind. Heat simmered under his skin and through his limbs, a quiet anger building in his core. The girl gazed at him, seeing the determination, and nodded again.   


“Let me at least give you something for your troubles,” she said quietly, fishing for something in the pocket of the apron around her dress. Dean shook his head, his raised hand imitating the gesture.   


“Really, you don’t need t-”   


“Here,” she cut him off, placing money into his palm. She closed his fingers around it, patting them before releasing his hand. “Keep it.”   


Dean nodded, glancing at the ground. Well, it was time to go; it was becoming a bit too touchy-feely for him. He rushed off towards his horse, untying the reins and hopping up onto the steed. As he settled in the saddle, he tipped his hat towards the woman and the farmhands. One older man standing near the cattle pen raised his hand, gaining Dean’s attention.   


“Hey, son, I don’t think we caught your name.”   


Dean contemplated the group, a smirk gracing his face as tightened his grip on the reins. Baby neighed in response, ready to go.   


“The name’s Winchester. Come on, girl!” He shouted, spurring Baby into a quick canter. As he passed the house and approached a crop of rocks that the path fell between, the people waved in farewell. Dean allowed himself a laugh, revelling in the strange situation he was in as Baby barreled through the crop of rocks and out across the desert. However, the smile quickly faded as his mind returned to the task at hand: finding and saving Cas’ ass.

\---

Dean blinked, the sun harsh as it beat down on the landscape. The light reflected against the dirt, making it more difficult to observe the gang members walking about Rathskeller Fork. Dean frowned as he looked for any indication of where they were holding Cas, but there was zilch. No increased security along the buildings, and there wasn’t even really a watch posted at the entrance of the small settlement. However, Dean only allowed his eyes above the short stone wall around the area, acting more as a divider between camp and the wilderness, rather than a factor in defense. He didn’t want to risk giving away his position. Not yet.

Dean’s stomach began to twist and knot as fear sparked in his mind. What if they had already killed Cas? Gabriel had mentioned that they wouldn’t respawn (which was pretty fucking stupid, if you asked him, because wasn’t this a goddamn video game anyways?). But if Cas was already dead, what was Gabriel waiting for? Wasn’t the objective lost?

Sharp laughter cut Dean’s thoughts off as a group of men stumbled out of one of the sun-washed buildings. Dean’s heart lunged in his chest as he saw a figure being dragged through the dirt, a bag covering their head. One of the men kicked the figure in the side, resulting in the figure falling fully into the dirt, clutching at his side. Dean thought back to his conversation with Gabriel; Cas was just as mortal as he was in this world. He winced as another one of the men kicked the figure, who had to be Cas. The group laughed down at him, and anger swelled within Dean once again. 

“Why don’t you take the sack off? Show us his pretty face?” One of the men hollered, and some of the others laughed in response. The man reached down and tore the sack away to reveal Cas’ bruised face. They laughed and whistled, and Dean’s stomach twisted again, his grip tightening on the wall.

“How long do we have to keep him?” One the men asked, scratching his beard.

“Until the boss decides what he’s worth, so stop askin’,” another replied. Dean assumed that

they were speaking of Walton. He was really beginning to hate that guy. Why would they want Cas anyways?

“Hey ami-go,” another said slowly. Cas brought his head up, squinting at the man. “How come yer not brown like the rest of ‘em?”

That caused a chorus of laughter amongst the group, until one man offered thoughtfully (surprisingly), “He might be adopted.” The laughter stopped abruptly and the group just stared at the man, who seemed to shrink a bit under their gaze. One of the men shoved him in the arm, resulting in him stumbling and ultimately tripping over Cas’ body. He landed in the dirt, and the laughter started once again. While the group was distracted, Dean managed to creep quietly into the settlement. He quickly ducked into the crumbling stable there, peeking out at the scene from behind one of the stalls.

Dean could see Cas’ lips moving, and the bearded man bent down to listen. After a moment, the man slapped Cas across the face before kicking him straight into the jaw, sending Cas reeling backwards across the ground.

“Speak English, son!”

“Son of a bitch,” Dean muttered under his breath, his fingers tapping restlessly against his revolver. He took it from its holster and cocked it, ready and willing to shoot any bastard that laid another hand on Cas.

Which is exactly what happened.

There was a sudden uprising of chaos after the bearded man had kicked Cas in the stomach, because Dean had quickly fired his gun and hit the man clean through his skull, the blood spraying some of the other gang members. Dust was kicked up from shuffling boots, and Dean sprinted forward, using it as cover as he slid down onto the ground next to Cas. He reached around the angel’s body, hoisting him up. He knew the men would shake from the confusion and realize that there was a stranger in their midst, but at that moment, when Cas groaned out Dean’s name from his bruised lips, all Dean cared about was getting him out of there. 

Winchesters, hardly ever having luck on their side, always sunk into trouble, no matter where they were at. This was no exception, as the men began shouting and grabbing at Dean and Cas, slinging them back onto the ground. Dean could hear several guns being cocked, and he swallowed hard, his throat burning from the dust and dry air.

“Who are you?” One of men shouted, pointing a shaky gun at Dean’s face. Dean forced a smile, holding up his hands. 

“Hey, whoa there, guys. I’m just trying to help out my friend here. That’s all.”

“You’re friend? Who says you’re allowed to help him, huh? He’s our property now.”

Dean’s jaw clenched as his gaze skipped from one man to the other. “He’s an ang-” He stopped himself, clearing his throat. “He’s a human being; you can’t  _own_ him.”

The men laughed, and Dean thought that that was really starting to get fucking annoying.

“You must be new here, son. See, with gangs, anything can be used for...transactional purposes.”

“I’m surprised you even know what transactional means,” Dean grunted, looking over at Cas. His stomach flipped as he stared into the angel’s blue eyes, full of confusion. Dean placed a reassuring hand (at least, he hoped it was reassuring) on Cas’ arm before returning his gaze on the men. “How about you let us go, and I won’t kill you?”

“That’s some big talk for the boy with the guns pointed at his head,” one of them sneered.

“Okay, take me instead of him. With my skill, I’m sure I’m much more valuable,” Dean offered. The men glanced at their dead, bearded friend (may he rest in Hell), and seemed to contemplate it. They looked amongst themselves, and Dean felt a bitter smirk turn on his lips. But, of course, Castiel had to place himself in front of danger to protect him, the idiot.

“No! No!” Cas pleaded, and the men turned to stare at him. One of them spat into the dirt, sneering at Dean. 

“Seems like your friend begs to differ. Why don’t you translate for us?” 

“What do you mean, translate? I think th-”

“Por favor, déjale en paz,” Cas blurted, his voice rough.

“Cas?” Dean asked, staring at the angel incredulously. Castiel coughed, sending a helpless look at Dean.

“Tú me quieres.” He raised his hands, staring at each of the men in turn. “Por favor. Esas pistolas no son necesarios.”

“Shut your filthy mouth, you disgusting piece of sh-”

“Hey, hey, hey! Shut the fuck up!” Dean shouted at the man, his anger rising dangerously. He took the stunned silence as an opportunity and quickly grabbed his revolver from the man. All the guns were then focused on Dean, so Dean placed his gun to Castiel’s head. The angel stilled, but Dean rubbed his thumb reassuringly against his arm (where the men couldn’t see, of course), and he felt Cas relax fractionally.

“Now, you ugly sons-of-bitches better back up, before I blow away your profit here,” Dean snarled. The men hesitated, but once one of them uncocked their pistol, the others followed suit. “Now, was that so hard?”

One of the men, a short, skinny guy, practically giggled. “No, but the bottom of that well sure is.” Dean sucked in a quick breath as he realized he was suddenly airborne. Giant hands enclosed around his arms and ribcage as a man probably near the size of the Hulk carried him towards the well. 

“Shit,” Dean muttered, wincing under the man’s grasp. 

“That’s exactly what you’re in, boy,” he replied, his voice sounding like it belonged to a mountain troll. He held Dean over the well, which, as Dean observed with sudden shock, was empty. Of course the well was dry, this was the fucking desert. And now he was going to die in it.

Dean contemplated which bone would break first on impact, hoping it was be his neck, when he caught Castiel’s gaze from a few yards away. Well, so much for the rescue.

“Bye, bye, boy. See you in Hell,” the giant man murmured. Dean laughed bitterly, closing his eyes.

“Oh, you’re going to love it there.”

Dean hated that feeling of falling; the loss of control, the flips in your stomach, and the fact that, usually, the destination never ended well. Dean tensed as he waited for the rocky pit that was the bottom of the dry well when he was suddenly surrounded by freezing water, the temperature shocking him so that he inhaled involuntarily. The water burned his lungs as he tried to swim back to the surface, wondering what in the hell had just happened. He heard several gunshots, the sound muted by the water, and his heart sank. Once he breached the surface, he coughed up the water from his lungs and immediately began shouting.

“Cas!  _Cas_ !” His voice came out no more than a croak. Dean hit the side of the well with his fist, frustration and, yeah, fear, that he couldn’t get up there and save Cas’ ass. He searched the well walls frantically for a way up, but found nothing. “How the hell am I supposed to get out of here?”

“Con esta soga,” a voice called from above. Dean looked up to Cas leaning over the well, lowering a rope down to him. Dean huffed, more of a sigh of relief than a laugh, and grabbed it.

“Did you kill all those guys?” Cas nodded. “How?”

The angel smirked down at him (Dean decidedly ignored the fluttering sensation in his gut at the sight), resting his arms along the edge of the well.

“Mmm, yo soy mejor que tú,” he replied, the smirk still in place. Dean nodded, frowning, before looking back up.

“Huh?”

Cas shook his head and patted the rope. “Sube rápidamente.”

“Uh huh,” Dean replied, grabbing the rope and hoisting himself out of the water.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hmm, what will happen to our boys next? And why is Cas pretty much tongue-tied? You'll find out in the next update!  
> Please remember to comment/give kudos! Thanks so much for reading. :-)
> 
> *Translations:  
> \- Por favor, déjale en paz. = Please, leave him alone.  
> \- Tú me quieres. = You want me.  
> \- Por favor. Esas pistolas no son necesarios. = Please. Those guns aren't needed/necessary.  
> \- Con esta soga. = With this rope.  
> \- Yo soy mejor que tú. = I'm better than you.  
> \- Sube rápidamente. = Climb quickly.


	6. Pt4 - Chapter 3: Let Me Heal Those Wounds, both Old and New

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally, another update! Thank you for your patience. Hope you enjoy!

Dean let go of the rope and gripped the edges of the crumbling well, arms shaking, the rough stone cutting into his palms. He began hoisting himself up until he felt two hands cling to him, helping him over the side of the well. He briefly fell into the dirt, but quickly regained his balance and stood up. Cas’ hands never left his arms.

“Dean, ¿estás bien?” The angel asked, his blue eyes scanning over Dean’s body. “Tenía miedo...Pensé que estabas muerto. Y-”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa. Slow down, Cas,” Dean interrupted, a faint chuckle escaping his lips. “I have no idea what you’re saying.” 

Cas looked lost, but Dean felt relief swell within him to see that his friend was alright. Pretty banged up, but breathing. Cas’ hands moved from Dean’s arms to his chest, where he patted lightly. His bright eyes burned into Dean, concern so evident on his face that it couldn’t have been clearer on a neon sign.   


Dean had the urge to cover Castiel’s hands with his own, but he swallowed it. They really didn’t have time for that.   


“I’m fine, Cas.” Dean’s internal chick flick moment was quickly replaced with his own worry. “How about you? Looked like you got it pretty rough, from what I saw.” He reached up to hold Cas’ jaw, inspecting the bruise there, the mark already turning deep purple. Other bruises were scattered across his face, including his  left eye, nose, and right above his left cheekbone.  


“No lo entiendo. Yo debería ser cicatrizante.”  


Dean just stared at him, finally breaking eye contact when he realized his hand was still on Cas’ face. He removed it and shook his head, and the angel rolled his eyes, another habit picked up by humans. Castiel motioned towards his bruises, made a flashing motion with his hand, and then shook his head. It took Dean a minute, but when he understood, he nodded solemnly.  


“You’re wondering why you’re not healing, right?” Castiel nodded in return, and Dean sighed, running a hand through his own wet hair. He wiped away the rivulets of water from his face and shuffled his feet before returning Castiel’s gaze. “Gabriel.”  


Castiel’s eyes hardened, but he remained silent, waiting for Dean to continue.  


“Yeah, he, uh, said that there’s this objective that we have to achieve? And that you’re as human as me in here. Also, we have to watch our asses, because if we die in here, that’s it. No respawn.” Cas tilted his head, and Dean huffed a bitter laugh. “We’re in a videogame, Cas.” Dean’s eyes flitted over towards the bodies of the men piled a few yards away. “But I sure as hell don’t remember damn giants being in this one.”  


“Gabriel,” Cas said slowly, pointing towards his mouth.   


“Yeah, I guess he decided to take the silent treatment and twist it around on you, the son-of-a-bitch.”  


Cas seemed distracted, his eyes going distant. He began pacing, his feet turning up dirt, and Dean couldn’t help but watch as his cotton, white shirt flowed loosely along the frame of his chest. Heat began rising up Dean’s back, despite his soaked (and still cold) clothing, and so he quickly averted his eyes and cleared his throat.  
Castiel finally stopped, dust swirling before settling at his feet. “No.”   


Dean’s head shot up, his brow furrowing. “No? What do you mean, no? Of course he’s a son-of-a-bitch. Just look at what he’s done to us, Cas!”   


Castiel continued to shake his head, pointing at the dead gang members. “Yo no tengo mis poderes. Pero Gabriel me ayudó.” Dean looked between the men and the angel and pieced it together rather easily this time.  


“Wait, are you telling me that he killed those guys?”  


“En cierto modo, sí.”  


Dean’s eyebrows rose, his hands coming up to rest on his hips. He shook his head once, huffing. “Well, that’s just great. So, he sends us in here with practically nothing, says ‘riddle me this’, and then disappears, only to come back to help us, when he clearly stated we had to figure this out on our own?” Cas merely shrugged.  


Dean raised his hands before letting them fall to slap against his thighs, frustration burning in his chest. “Perfect.” His eyes scanned across the settlement, trying to concoct a plan. They needed to leave before the sun completely set, and it was already sinking into the horizon. He quickly turned around, patting Cas on the shoulder.  


“Alright, let’s search the buildings and their bodies for anything useful, and then we’ll head out.” He walked past Cas, towards the small buildings, before pausing when he heard a faint grunt. He turned around to see Cas holding his stomach, his eyes squinted from the obvious pain. “Oh, right...”   


Dean stepped back towards the angel, his hand reaching out to steady Cas as he began to teeter. “Whoa, easy there.” He whistled, and a neigh answered as Baby galloped in from outside the wall of the settlement, her black coat gleaming in the sun. A smile broke across Dean’s face as she stopped beside them, standing tall. Cas looked at the horse, before turning to Dean with questioning eyes. 

“Yeah, that’s Baby, alright. So I guess Gabriel isn’t a total douche.” He helped Cas climb up onto Baby, and his heart pulled at every pained wince that slipped through Cas’ lips. Once Dean was sure the angel wouldn’t slip off, he patted his thigh, daring to keep his hand there. “We’ll stop at a farm nearby, and see if we can get you rested and fixed up. We’ll both need to be strong if we’re going to survive out here.” 

Castiel stared at Dean’s hand that was lingering on his thigh, and as the angel lifted his head to look at him, Dean’s stomach flipped. Cas’ eyes looked...different. They seemed restrained, bright,  _alluring_ (more so than usual), and Dean swallowed hard before letting his hand slowly slide down and off of Cas’ thigh. 

“I’m gonna go, uh, check for...supplies,” Dean stated, his voice in a forced lower octave. He turned and walked away from the horse, his eyes closing in exasperation. They really had no fucking time for this.

_Maybe you oughta make time. Idiot._

\---

Dean had to keep Baby at a slow trot. Otherwise, Cas would probably tumble off of the large horse’s flank. New weapons, ammo, and a couple of pouches of money had been added to their supplies. All the food in the camp had been either mouldy or unidentifiable, which Dean had found very depressing, considering the noises his stomach was making. Maybe the people at Ridgewood Farm would give them a place to rest and some food to eat. Dean did save their asses, after all.

Dean felt Cas’ grip on his hips loosen, and so he reached for the angel’s arms and wrapped them around his waist, trying very hard not to think of how his heart rate quickened at the increased contact.

“Just hold on, Cas. We’re nearly there.”

Cas’ arms tightened around him, but his head fell onto Dean’s back, lolling side to side. Shit, if Cas was passing out, it was going to take them even longer to reach the farm. Dean tensed as Baby neighed at the sound of a rattlesnake hissing and rattling its tail on the side of the dirt path, and he urged her to trot a bit faster. 

“C’mon, Baby. No time to get scared. Just grow a pair.” Baby, as if understanding him, tossed her head and huffed. Suddenly, a wolf howled in the distance, and Dean’s stomach sank as he watched the sun do the same behind the horizon.

“Shit, shit, shit,” he mumbled, spurring Baby into a gallop. No way was he getting caught out in this desert, not with the condition Cas was in. Steering with one hand, he held onto Cas’ with the other. “Hang on, Cas!”

They barreled through the brush, light rapidly fading around them, until they finally reached the outcrop of rocks next to the farm. Dean slowed down, easing Baby down the road and into the area, where workers were cleaning up from the day’s work.

“Please, I need help! Anyone, please!” Dean called out, halting Baby next to the post by the main house. He could hear the workers murmuring as he climbed off the horse, carefully pulling Cas down after him.

“Look, it’s that Winchester fella!”

“He has someone with him. Quick, go get May!”

“Here, let me help you, son,” a heavily-built man with a thick mustache said, slinging one of Cas’ arms around his shoulder. The girl with the golden hair that Dean had met earlier, who he assumed was May, ran from the front door of the house. 

“Oh my goodness! Here, come inside. We can lay him down in one of the spare rooms.” 

Dean and the man carried Cas inside the house and up the stairs to a small bedroom, which contained no more than a single’s bed, a nightstand, and a wooden chair. They laid Cas down across the mattress, and his eyes fluttered before they shut completely. Dean knelt beside the bed, his hand firmly placed on the angel’s shoulder. 

“What happened out there, kid?” The bulk of a man asked as May came in with a bowl of water and a few towels. 

“A group from Walton’s gang had him up at Rathskeller Fork. They were beating him up pretty badly, basically calling him their property. They were talking about selling him, or trading him...something. All I know is, is that I wouldn’t let them do that.”

There was a pause as Dean watched May carefully clean up Cas’ face with a damp towel. 

“What did you do?” The man asked, although it sounded to Dean that he figured exactly what he had done. May’s actions stopped, her hand hovering over Cas’ forehead.

“I killed them.”

May continued her attention, and the man stepped up toward Dean with an outstretched hand. Dean quickly stood up, shaking it.

“The name’s Aquila.”

“Winchester.”

“You got a first name, Winchester?”

“Uh, Dean.”

“Hmm.”

Aquila nodded before quietly making his way out of the room. Well, as quiet as a man of his size could manage.

“Mr. Winchester, did you see these?” May asked from the bed, and he turned to see May lifting up Cas’ shirt, revealing dozens upon dozens of deep bruises across his stomach and chest. A chill ran down his spine as he knelt by the bed once more, lifting Cas’ shirt farther.

“Jesus, Cas, why didn’t you say something?” 

May began wiping up some dried blood from his upper chest. “Looks like they cut him, too. Right here, above his left lung.” Dean reached out to inspect the wound himself, instinct kicking in, but instead he let his hand fall across Cas’ wrist, feeling a strong pulse there. Well, that was a good sign at least.

“I’m not sure how extensive the damage is, Mr. Winchester. I don’t think there are any broken ribs, but there could be internal bleeding. The earliest I can send for a doctor is in the morning.”

Dean nodded, but he was focused on watching Castiel’s face, monitoring him. May’s soft, pale hand covered Dean’s, and he finally looked up to see a sympathetic smile. 

“He’ll be alright, I’m sure of it.” She paused, looking down at Cas before returning to Dean. “Where did you meet him?”

Dean laughed suddenly, and May seemed surprised until Dean shook his head, quieting. “Sorry. It’s just...it’s a long story.”

“I’m here to listen,” she replied, continuing to wipe down Cas’ chest. Dean cleared his throat and stared at the wall, wondering where to begin exactly.

“Well, let’s just say I was in...a lot of trouble, and he saved my ass. Literally.”

“What kind of trouble?”

“Real, real bad trouble. The kind you don’t get out of unless you’re dead...or worse.” Dean paused for a reaction, but May was silent. “I was pretty much left for dead, and he saved my life. Come to think of it,” Dean added with a chuckle. “I was kind of mad at him for it. Well, more confused than angry, but still.”

“Why?”

“Because...I had done some terrible things. Things I’m not proud of...things that will haunt me for the rest of my life.”

“You didn’t think you were worth saving,” May commented. Dean turned his head to stare at her, and then at Cas. 

“Yeah. I guess I didn’t.”

“And he proved you wrong, didn’t he?”

Dean didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he watched the shadows in the room begin to grow from the moon’s light streaming in through the window. 

“I think we’ve proved different things to each other.”

“You obviously care deeply about him, to selflessly sacrifice yourself to save him.”

“Seems more like I returned a favor, don’t you think?”

“I think you’ve already saved his life before. When you returned to the farm, you were calm, collected, focused, as if you’ve had experience with this. I think it’s less of an obligation, and more of a desire to keep him safe.”

That knocked Dean off-guard, and he felt his defenses begin to slip.

“Oh, yeah? How did you come by that?”

“Because I know what it looks like; I’ve been there.”

“Uh huh...Well, you’re wrong, sister.”

“How so?”

Dean licked his lips, his gaze drifting back towards Cas’ face. “I do feel obligated.”

“Hmm. Maybe you do, but that doesn’t mean you’re any less involved emotionally.”

“What do you know about my emotions, exactly?” Dean asked, his voice hard. “You don’t know anything about me, or how I feel. Nothing.”

Dean turned from Cas to see May staring at him, a small smile touching the corners of her mouth. “I don’t need to, when it’s clearly written on your face.”

Dean had no reply. Instead, he stood up and walked to the window, looking out of it but seeing nothing, his head swarming with repressed thoughts that had been waiting to be dug up. Just like she had just done. He had no idea why he was blabbing about his life with this girl, who was just a stranger in a false reality, but it had happened and it was done, and now Dean couldn’t stop the clenched feeling around his heart. It had been a long time since he’d experienced that.

“I think you should get some fresh air. It’ll help clear your head. Don’t worry about your friend, here. I’m almost done.”

Dean nodded, but said nothing. He heard May shift behind him, and he turned to see her holding out a fresh, larger towel.

“You’re all wet. Aquila laid out some spare clothing for you downstairs. You can change and hang up those garments to dry.”

Dean left the room with a quiet thank you and a quick glance at Cas’ sleeping form, and did just that. The spare clothes were too big for him, and smelled a bit weird, but he settled on the fact that they were just temporary. His hands were on the front door, ready to head outside, when he realized that his boots were soaked as well. He sighed, hoping he wouldn’t step on anything with his bare feet, and walked out into the night. 

He saw Aquila smoking by the cattle pen and nodded. The man withdrew his pipe from his mouth, readjusting himself as he leaned against the fence.

“Don’t wander too far.”

“Yes, sir,” Dean answered, patting his revolver at his side. He walked out past the house and down the road that he knew would eventually lead to Armadillo, going several yards until he faced a turn in the past that made him blind to anyone at the ranch. That’s when he raised his head to the starry sky.

“Gabriel, you ugly ass son-of-a-”

“Why, Dean, I thought you’d learn some manners while you were here.”

Dean spun around to witness Gabriel in nothing but a bathrobe, the scent of wine and sex wafting up from him. Dean back tracked a few spaces in disgust.

“Dude, what were you doing? Wait!” Dean yelled, pointing at Gabriel’s widening trap. “Scratch that. I don’t want to know.”

“Too late. I was schmoozing up to your bro.”

“You...you’ve been visiting Sam?” Gabriel rolled his eyes, arms going limp by his sides.

“Of course you would turn a joke into a victim of your domestic disputes. Well done, Dean-o.” Dean began to reply, but Gabriel cut him off. “Speaking of bros, how’s mine getting along? Not missing his wings too much, is he?”

Anger rekindled in Dean’s gut, his face returning a scowl. “He’s passed out in an old farmhouse, unable to heal himself, you mother fu-”

“Whoa, there, cowboy! And I mean that literally. Aren’t you forgetting something?”

“What?” Dean asked, his voice deep and threatening.

“Well, for one, your happy pills. Two, I saved both of your asses. I mean, come on! You guys were barely into the first mission, and you almost died.”

“You saved us?”

“Yes, dumbass. I put that water in the well so you wouldn’t break your spine.”

“And it was freezing, fuck you very much.”

“You’re welcome. And I gave Cas a little juice in order to gunsling faster than any cowboy or outlaw in the history of history, fiction, or otherwise. Wish you could have seen it.”

“And you didn’t bother  _healing_ him while you were at it?”

“Calm down, he doesn’t have anything serious. He just needs to recharge. A warning, though. He’ll be sore in the morning, and Cas gets grumpy when he’s sore. For future reference.”

Dean blinked. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing. Now, go scuttle back to my little bro and get some rest,” Gabriel said, waving his hand carelessly in the air before positioning his fingers to snap himself away. “You look like crap.”

“Why are you helping us? I thought you said you wouldn’t.”

“Dean. Videogames are supposed to be interactive. It’s no fun just to sit back and watch someone else play. Ta.” And with a snap, Gabriel was gone.

Dean stood in the road for moment, trying to ease his frustration and anger down until he could lash it out later. He slowly made his way back to the house, where he stepped inside, wiped his dirt-clad feet off with his towel, and quietly climbed the stairs up to the spare bedroom.

He opened the door a fraction at a time, hoping not to wake Cas. He saw that May had left, and so he closed the door behind him. He realized that May had also taken Cas’ shirt off completely, baring his bruised chest to the chilled, night air. Dean tried to think about how banged up Cas was, but sometimes his other brain won, and the thought that this was one of the rare times Dean actually saw this amount of Cas’ skin was prevailing over his other thoughts.

He also noticed, with a resigned sigh, that instead of placing a blanket in the chair where Dean had originally planned to sleep, May had placed an extra pillow beside Cas’ head. He stood there for a moment, biting his lip.

“What the hell?” Dean shrugged and shed his shirt, climbing into the small bed with Cas. He tried not to jostle the angel as he slid under the sheets, but it was proving difficult. The mattress was definitely made of straw, and the bed was already cramped with only Cas, so Dean had to situate himself so that he wasn’t hanging off of the bed. He ended up pressed shoulder to shoulder with Cas; an adjustment that would make him sleep better could have been easily made, but it would make this whole situation far more gay than it already was.

_Then it really can't hurt, can it?_

Dean inhaled, slung his arm to rest above Cas' head, and turned onto his side, facing the angel. He ignored how Cas' body felt next to his, how easy it was to allow his fingertips to dip into his dark hair, how, if they were any closer, Dean's skin would catch fire, and how  _right_ that all seemed.

Dean silently wished that he would wake up before Cas did, and, if he'd known, he would have wished the same before any of the household members found that he had rolled over to lay across Cas while he slept, his head resting in the crook of the angel's neck.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please remember to comment/give kudos. Thank you very much for reading! More to come soon. :-)
> 
> May is an OC of mine for this story only.
> 
> Translations (I must note that it has been years since I have taken Spanish, so I do use a translator for most of it - however, I do try to catch grammatical mistakes that are common with online translators. If I make a mistake, please keep this in mind, as well as accept my apologies!):
> 
> \- "Dean, ¿estás bien? Tenía miedo...Pensé que estabas muerto. Y-" : "Dean, are you alright? I was afraid...I thought you were dead. And-"  
> \- "No lo entiendo. Yo debería ser cicatrizante." : "I don't understand. I should be healing."  
> \- "Yo no tengo mis poderes. Pero Gabriel me ayudó." : "I don't have my powers. But Gabriel helped me."  
> \- "En cierto modo, sí." : "In a way, yes."


	7. Pt4 - Chapter 4: Communication Breakdown

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry for the long wait! Life can be quite hectic, and updates can take a while, especially if you get writer's block...  
> Anyways, hope you enjoy this update! I will try to update again soon.

Dean, slowly waking, swore he heard the pounding hoofprints of galloping horses. As he began to come to, his eyes cracked open and his vision blurry, he resolved that it must had been echoes of his dream, which he couldn’t quite remember. However, the longer he laid there, the longer the pounding in his left ear continued. He frowned, disoriented and quickly becoming aware of the increasing temperature around him.  


“Why is it so damn hot?” He mumbled, and the tempo of the pounding increased. As his vision cleared, it all hit him at once.  


Dean could feel the rise and fall of Cas’ chest, recognizing the pounding as the beat of the angel’s heart. His stomach flipped and his back burned as he realized the position they were in.  


“Uh...Cas?”  


After a few seconds, Castiel hummed in response. Dean swallowed, inhaling slowly before he continued.  


“How did I end up like this?”  


Cas cleared his throat. “Hmm...no sé.”  


“Uh huh. I think...I should get up.” The words left Dean’s mouth, but his body protested the slightest movement; probably just sore from the day before.  


_Yeah, keep telling yourself that._  


Dean was draped over Cas’ chest, his head resting right above Cas’ left nipple, his right hand hanging over the edge of the bed. Cas’ right arm still hadn’t left Dean’s back, his fingers subconsciously pressing lightly into the dip of Dean’s spine, right above his pant line. To have so much of Cas’ bare skin in contact with his, Dean began to go a bit crazy. There was so much he wanted to touch, and the impulse scared him.  
No more words were exchanged for a while as they laid there, enjoying the short peace they were afforded. Dean felt his eyes become heavy again, the combined warmth of their bodies and the sunlight streaming in through the window sending him off into sleep. Well, that is, until he felt Cas’ fingertips start to trace soft, lazy circles across his lower back. The touch made Dean shiver, sending goosebumps across his skin, and Castiel’s motions halted.  


“Cas...” His voice was quiet, a stark contrast to the nervous turmoil inside of him. “Don’t stop.” He both heard and felt the angel’s heartbeat tumble, uneven and quickened. He pressed his fingertips harder into Dean’s back, spreading out to rub all the muscles. Soon enough, Cas’ hand was massaging up and down the length of Dean’s back, using various patterns and pressure, and Dean couldn’t ignore the beginnings of arousal burning deep in his gut. He exhaled, his sigh turning into a quiet moan, and Cas’ heart went crazy.  


Dean had a choice. The internalized panic attack in his head slowly began to smooth out as Cas continued to work his fingers; the same fingers dipped right along Dean’s pant line, and Dean bit his lip, the arousal causing heat to flare up his back. He resolved that he could contemplate his sexual orientation later, when all he wanted to do at that moment was press himself into Cas and feel as much of his skin as possible.  
With arousal driving his impulses, Dean began to mouth at the skin of Cas’ chest, before moving down to take his left nipple in his mouth, where he made teasing circles around it with his tongue. Castiel’s back arched as he moaned, his fingernails digging sharply into Dean’s back.  


Dean continued to mouth his way up to Cas’ neck, nipping sharply at the skin before licking it, his wet lips and tongue making a hot trail that left Castiel trembling. The angel fingered through the short tufts of hair at the back of Dean’s head, clinging and whispering.  


“Dean...” Cas pulled gently, causing Dean to tilt his head backwards. He stared at him, blue eyes alight with a fever Dean knew all too well, the intensity of it making his own heart skip a beat. Dean slid up along Cas’ chest, his right leg now straddled over Cas’ left one, and kissed him.  


There was no ocean to retreat into this time as Dean pressed his lips hard into Cas, their mouths dancing slowly as they learned each other. As Cas’ bold tongue swept across the inside of Dean’s upper lip, hell...one would have thought he was drowning anyways.  


All of the tension of tiptoeing around each other, of sneaked glances and secretive brushes, melted into the heat building between their bodies. Dean pressed into Cas, his desire bubbling through his veins.  


“Oh, Cas,” he moaned into the angel’s mouth, something becoming so dangerously addicting yielding to Dean’s teeth as he bit and pulled at his bottom lip. “I...I don’t...” Dean was finding it increasingly difficult to find the right words to say about how much he wanted this, and for how long. He wasn’t quite sure himself.  


Castiel’s arms tightened around him, trying to bring him closer against him as he moaned underneath Dean’s attentive mouth. Dean rolled his hips once, causing his erection to rub against Cas’ thigh. They moaned in unison, and Dean attacked Castiel’s mouth, the fire boiling deep inside him driving him mad.  


“Cas...I-I need...” He tried to say as their tongues and swollen lips collided. Suddenly, Cas’ hands were on his chest, separating them. Dean frowned, but Cas rolled him off, pulling the wrinkled blanket up to his collar bones.  


“Cas, what the hell, why did you-”  


Cas held a finger to his lips and nodded again towards the door. Dean heard it then; a rhythmic creaking as more than one set of boots climbed the stairs. He quickly stood, throwing on his shirt as his heart slowly climbed down from its high. As he began pulling on his boots, a hand rapped on the door, and Dean silently prayed to some higher power that they wouldn’t be able to see his damn erection through his pants.

 

“Come in.”  


The door opened to reveal May and an elderly looking gentleman with small, oval glasses. Silence settled as the man looked from Dean to Cas, then to May and back to Dean. May stared at Cas with a small smile, and he stared back, his demeanor seeming childish as he laid there with the blanket up to his chin. Dean held back a chuckle.  


“Well, uh, doctor, this is Dean and Castiel, our guests,” May finally spoke up. “Castiel here received quite a beating yesterday.”  


“Yes, a gang is what you said?” The man asked, stepping up to Cas’ side of the bed. Dean swung one leg back onto the mattress to get a better view as the doctor attempted to gather the blanket from Cas’ hands. Cas held firm for a moment before allowing the doctor to examine his chest. However, before the man continued, he glanced up at Dean through his small spectacles and sniffed. 

“I believe I should conduct my business further in private.”  


Dean returned the gaze as he slid fully back onto the bed, placing his hands in his lap.  


“Sorry, doc. No dice. This is my best friend, and I’m not leaving this room until I know he’s okay.”  


The doctor huffed, but Dean saw May try to hide a smile behind the sleeve cuff of her blue dress. Dean winked at her before returning his attention back on Cas, who occasionally caught his eye, an amused gleam caught in those blues.  


The doctor went through his examination processes, checking for broken bones and signs of internal bleeding, before standing up. He corrected his glasses on his nose and grabbed his briefcase, looking down at Cas before glancing between Dean and May.  


“Well, it seems that he is in perfect condition. Some left over bruises of course, but nothing serious. Besides that and the fact of his increased perspiration, possibly from the heat of the sun streaming through that window,” the doctor motioned towards the window while Dean caught another amused glance from Cas, “I’d say he’s fit for normal work. Just take things a bit slow today and be sure that those bruises are receding and changing to a faint yellow within the next couple of days. If they don’t, call on me again.” The doctor extended a thin hand, comprised of a flat palm and long fingers, to May, who shook it gently.  


“Here, let me show you the way out, sir,” May insisted, guiding the man through the bedroom door and closing it softly behind her. Once Dean heard the sound of the creaking stairs fade, he rolled over onto Cas, pinning him down.  


“Finally,” Dean said, grinning. “I knew you were fine.” He bent down to kiss him, and Cas sighed, lacing his fingers behind Dean’s neck as he melted into him. Before long, he pulled away, shaking his head. ** **  
****

“Dean.”

“Huh?” Dean kissed him again, unable to stop himself.

“Ella volverá.” Cas pushed up on him, gesturing towards the door. Dean glanced at it before returning to Cas, smirking.

“I still have no idea what you’re saying, so I’m electing to ignore it.” Dean bent down for another kiss, but Cas pushed him, sending him rolling off of the bed.

A hissed “son-of-a-bitch”, accompanied by a large thud, had Castiel laughing into his pillow. Dean stood up quickly, brushing off his clothes.

“Oh, you think that’s funny, huh? You’re just...you...” Dean failed to come up with a clever retort, but truth be told, he didn’t really want to as the rare sight of Cas’ smile and even rarer sound of Cas’ laughter sent his stomach squirming and his heart galloping.  

Damn, he really was becoming a sap. He’d be lying if the thought didn’t unnerve him in the slightest.

“Alright.” Dean cleared his throat, grabbing his hat and throwing on his duster coat. “Get up and get dressed. I’m starving.”

\---

Breakfast was good, but it turned out that May wasn’t going to let them get away with an easy day.

“Castiel seems healed up well. Some fresh air and exercise might do you good.”

Before they knew it, they were both on horseback, herding cattle with Aquila across the prairie to graze. Once the animals had their fill, Aquila commented that it was time to take them back to the farm.

“I’ve never done this before, and neither has Cas,” Dean argued, carefully maneuvering around the cattle. Cas was a few yards away, staring down at the horse rather than watching the cows move around him.

“You learn quick out here,” Aquila returned, sipping on his cantine. “It’ll come to ya.”

“Yeah? And what if it doesn’t?”

“If it don’t, and our cattle runs off, meaning our profits run off, then you’ll be a dead man.” Dean held Aquila’s unwavering gaze for a few seconds before looking away, nodding.

“Good to know.” Dean looked back over to Cas, whose eyes were still downcast. “Hey, Cas, you ready?”

“You better be, because part of the herd is already leaving you.” Dean stared at Aquila before turning to see a section of the cattle run off towards the railroad tracks.

“Hey!” Dean spurred his horse into a gallop, in doing so spooking another section of cattle away. “Damn it. Cas, go get them!”

“You can’t get those cows by yourself, boy!” Aquila called after him. “And neither can he!”

“Well, why don’t you help him? I can handle these guys.”

Dean circled and trotted, shouted and snapped, but the cattle continued to scatter, the distance between them increasing. Soon enough, the small group would split into two. Dean huffed in frustration, swearing under his breath as his horse reared, almost sending him backwards and into the dirt.

“Why won’t any of you goddamn animals cooperate?” He shouted.

“Because you lack patience and fail to plan appropriately,” Aquila answered, passing him with Cas in tow. “You should watch us and learn the signals for future use.” Dean frowned and turned to look back at the main herd, the cattle all gathered and following closely behind him. Dean watched Aquila motion to Cas, and they both trotted in a zigzag pattern with their horses, gathering the fleeting cattle into a loose group. As they headed back toward the main section of the herd, Dean smirked bitterly.

“So, you give him some secret tips, but not me?”

“You did not listen. Failure was your own doing,” Aquila answered. “Now, take the right flank of the herd. Castiel will take the left, and I will behind in center. Do not circle the cattle, or you will frighten them into running again.”

Dean seethed beneath the glaring desert sun, but he followed directions, coming up along the right side of the bunched cows. His temper slowly cooled as they made a smooth transition across the land, passing a few weary travelers and, thankfully empty, railroad tracks. Dean felt as though the rest of the way back should be easy enough, and glanced over at Cas. The angel still seemed nervous on top of the horse, but Dean came to admire how the slow canter he was moving at made his hips roll along with each of the horse’s strides.

“Eyes ahead, boy. Best keep a lookout for predators.”

Dean mumbled under his breath, but he listened, training his eyes towards the rocky outcrops outlining the path in front of them. A sudden growl echoed through the rocks, and Dean’s heart skipped a beat, his hand reaching for his pistol.

“Cougar!” He called, his eyes scanning the rocks. The cattle rustled nervously, and Dean knew as soon as the beast made its move, the herd would scatter in panic. “Cas, get ready.”

“Dean!”

Dean turned to answer Cas, but he was met with another growl as the cougar danced along the path in front of him, teeth bared.

“Oh shit, this is so much scarier than the game-” The cougar began to sprint, its sharp claws claiming earth beneath them, and the cattle panicked, darting off into several different directions. Dean whipped out his pistol, and as the large cat approached, he aimed and exhaled slowly.

Three quick shots to the head, and the cougar was down. The beast laid across the dirt roadway, its blood staining it red. Dean shook with adrenaline, snapping to at the sound of Castiel’s voice.

“Dean! Tenemos que darnos prisa después de que el ganado. Tenemos que-”

“Cas, I don’t understand what you’re saying!” He yelled. Cas pointed at the retreating cattle and the dust of Aquila’s fast-traveling horse in the distance. “Oh.”

Cas whistled and spurred his horse, heading off after them with Dean in quick pursuit. They soon approached about a half dozen cattle headed towards a steep, rocky incline.

“Cas, let me head around to the front of them and cut them off. You stay back here.”

Castiel shook his head. “Dean, no. Es una idea mala.”

“Cas, relax, I’ve got this.”

“Dean!”

Dean was already racing around the cattle, hurrying to make it to the head. He passed in front of them, just before the incline, but the cattle weren’t stopping, nor were they turning. Dean tried yelling at them, but before he could safely maneuver out of their way, one of the cows rammed head on into Dean’s horse, sending both itself and them down the incline. The slope was steep, and Dean’s horse was quickly losing footing. Dean swallowed, watching the cow tumble and twist down the slope until it met its demise with a loud crack against a rock.

“Come on, Baby, come on. I know you have it in you,” Dean whispered in her ear, the black horse grunting and whining as it tried to climb the slope. Baby faltered, and Dean inhaled sharply, but he continued to encourage her. An unnatural force pushed Baby forward, and Dean held on tightly as she successfully stepped up over the ledge and onto sturdier ground. Dean smiled and patted her, but as he looked up, Cas was sitting still on his horse, his face furious. Dean swallowed.

“Well, that didn’t go exactly as planned...uh, I guess you got the rest of the cows to-”

“Estúpido bastardo.Tienes suerte que el ganado se mudó cuando lo hicieron, o todos ustedes habrían perecido.”

Cas galloped away, leaving Dean on the edge of the slope. He quickly spurred Baby on after him, following closely behind once he caught up. As they rode to catch up with the remainder of the cattle, Aquila’s words came back to Dean in full force. A light bulb went off in his head, and pulled alongside Cas. At first, the angel didn’t look at him, but as Dean continued to stare, Cas finally turned his head.

“I’m sorry that I didn’t listen, okay? Just...lead the way. Show me what to do.” Cas’ face eased considerably, and he nodded, motioning for Dean to take the right flank. Dean watched Cas closely for more instructions as they approached the cattle, zigzagging when needed, making sure to stay in the correct zones and out of the herd’s blind spots. When they managed to gather the majority of the herd, Aquila motioned for them to pursue the last few cows who had strayed off into a ditch.

Dean and Cas noticed a cliff not too far from the panicked cows, but Dean swallowed the impulse to barrel off after them. Instead, he looked to Cas, who gestured for him to pressure the right side of small group. Once Dean had them turning away from the cliff, and essentially away from present danger, Cas sped ahead to lead them from the left. The cows followed easily, and Dean smiled as they finally managed to gather the entire herd together...minus one.

“Well done, boys. You finally managed to listen to each other,” Aquila commented, taking a sip from his flask. “Are all of the cattle accounted for?”

Dean swallowed and scanned the grass before bring his head back up. “No. We...I mean, I lost one over a slope. I’m...sorry.”

Aquila nodded his understanding. “I saw part of what happened. You must have God on your side, boy, the way you got back out.”

Dean huffed, looking at the sky and wondering if Gabriel could see him if he flicked him off from here.

“Anyway, you’ll have a debt to pay, for certain. That was good money you cost the farm.”

“Yes, sir.”

“We’ll figure something out later. For now, let’s get these animals back home.” Aquila turned to Cas before riding off to his position near the front of the herd. “Good job today. You’re a quick learner.”

“Thank you, sir.”

Dean did a double-take, and as Aquila rode off, he placed a hand on Cas’ shoulder. “Cas.”

“Yes, Dean?”

“You just spoke English.”

“...So I did.”

“Oh, man, it’s good to have you back to normal.” Dean laughed and patted the angel’s back, but Cas stared back solemnly. Dean’s cheer diminished, his hand slipping away from Cas. “What’s wrong?”

Cas spurred his horse into a slow canter, and Dean followed beside him, keeping one eye on the herd.

“I wasn’t sure Gabriel would save you again. I knew I couldn’t, and once you went down that slope, I thought...”

“You thought you’d lost me.” Cas nodded silently. “Cas, that’s what all this was about. It was that son-of-a-bitch brother of yours teaching us a lesson. Remember?”

“Our objective?”

“Yeah. I mean, I don’t think we’re done, because we’re still here, but this was at least one of ‘em, because, hey! We’ve got your normal speaking voice back.”

“It was a hindrance in our normal conversing. Gabriel was telling us to improve our communication skills.”

“Which we did...” When Dean received a cold stare, he cleared his throat. “Uh, well, I did.”

“We both learned, and that’s what counts. Now we just have to figure out what else Gabriel wishes to...teach us.”

“Well, bro, it’s a bit easier than you think it is. Hell, you’re already part way there.” Gabriel appeared in front of them, sitting on top of one of the cows, riding it backwards. “Sadly, the game may end a little early.”

“Having fun almost getting us killed? Again? Jackass?”

“Now, now, Dean-o.” Gabe waved his pointer finger. “Don’t want to startle the cattle with all your cursing.”

“You wouldn’t dare-”

“Actually, I would, but since you two have worked so hard today, I suppose I can give it a rest.”

“Why don’t you? Permanently?”

Gabe raised an eyebrow. “Is that a threat? Don’t forget who holds the power here, kiddo.”

“Gabriel.”

Gabe turned to Cas, looking up and down. “Little bro. How is taming the wild beast coming along?”

Cas glanced down at the horse, keeping silent.

“Cas? You’ve been eyeing your horse since we got out here. Mind telling me..”

“What’s got him scared?” Gabriel finished. Cas swallowed, looking uneasy.

“It is...quite intimidating to have to straddle such a powerful animal as it thunders between my legs.” Gabriel visibly held back a laugh, and Dean nearly choked on his own spit. “God created such beautiful, strong creatures, but...riding them is a whole different matter entirely.”

“Why not chat with Dean, here? I’m sure he can give you some tips.” Gabriel winked at Dean, but before Dean could retort, the archangel was gone.

“Dean, what did he-”

“Nothing, Cas. Let’s just get back.”

\---

They both washed up alternatively in the bathhouse, and Dean thanked May several times as she set a hot dinner before them.

“I’ll make everything up to you, May,” he promised, digging into steaming mashed potatoes. She patted his shoulder as she set down a glass of water in front of Cas.

“I’m sure you will, darling. Now focus on restoring your strength.” She stepped up to Cas, who was picking at his food. “Not hungry?”

“I am...I’m just thinking.” May didn’t miss the exchange of glances made between him and Dean.

“Well, I’m glad you’ve got your sense about you again. Tomorrow you’ll have a day to rest. I should have heeded the doctor’s orders and not let you out today. I thought the cattle ride would be smoother...”

“It is alright, May. Thank you for your concern...as well as your kindness.” May smiled and twirled her dress just a bit.

“You’re very welcome. I’m just gonna head outside, check on some things. I’ll be back soon.”

Once May left the kitchen, the silence of the empty house was deafening to Dean. He couldn’t help but glance at Cas every few seconds, every bite of his food chewed more out of anxiety than hunger.

“Dean.”

Dean swallowed hard.

“Yeah, Cas?”

“This morning...”

Dean set his utensils down on the table, taking a long swig of water before answering.

“What about it?”

Cas’ head shot up before tilting in his endearing, familiar manner. “Am...am I correct in assuming that that was mutual affection?”

“Cas...” Dean sighed. “It’s complicated.”

“I don’t understand. What is so complicated? We clearly both felt-”

“Don’t tell me how I feel, Cas.”

There was a beat of silence, blue burning into green.

“I apologize. I didn’t mean to assume.” Cas stood up from the table, his food untouched. Dean rubbed his eyes, his stomach turning uncomfortably. He just needed time to think.

“Cas. Wait.”

“My affections are obviously clear. Approach me on this subject when yours are not as elusive.”

“Cas, listen to me, damn it!”

Dean wasn’t sure when he had stood up from the table, but suddenly he was across the room and kissing Cas, his fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt. Soon, the warmth left his lips and his fingers were untangled from the fabric, and he opened his eyes to watch Castiel’s back pass out through the front door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you very much for reading! Please remember to comment/give kudos. See you again soon! :-)
> 
> Translations (some of the Spanish grammar may not be totally correct, my apologies):  
> \- “Hmm...no sé.” = "Hmm...I don't know."  
> \- “Ella volverá.” = "She will return."  
> \- “Dean! Tenemos que darnos prisa después de que el ganado. Tenemos que-” = "Dean! We have to hurry after the cattle. We have to-"  
> \- “Dean, no. Es una idea mala.” = "Dean, no. It's a bad idea."  
> \- “Estúpido bastardo. Tienes suerte que el ganado se mudó cuando lo hicieron, o todos ustedes habrían perecido.” = "Stupid bastard. You're lucky that the cattle moved when they did it, or everyone would have perished."


	8. Pt4 - Chapter 5: Who Needs Who

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry about the hiatus, but I'm back, and I'm going to try and keep this story rolling! Thank you for your patience, and I hope I've appeased you in someway with this chapter, eheheh. Enjoy!

“Alright, you... _ass_.” Castiel stationed himself on top of a large boulder behind the Ridgewood house, staring pointedly into a cluster of stars dusting the western night sky. “Be clear. Tell me what you want from us.”

Seconds stretched into minutes, yet he received no reply. He resigned to sit on the boulder, his chaotic thoughts and still racing heart making him feel unstable. Frustration clawed up his back, and he looked back into the stars, lip curled in a snarl.

“Are you too much of a coward to face me?”  


The rustle of wings answered.  


“Careful, Castiel. Wouldn’t want to poke at the man in charge.”  


“And one definite with calling on you is playing with your ego.”

“Hmm.” Gabriel sat down next to his brother, looking out across the dusted landscape. “What can I do for you? Whip up a romantic spaghetti dinner for two beneath the moonlight? I’m sure old Dean-o would-”

“You can start by telling me what exactly it is you’re planning.”

Gabriel raised an eyebrow, looking his brother over. “Or what? You preparing on pulling something over my head?”

“Perhaps.” The stern response had Gabriel chuckling, and he sighed, placing a hand on Castiel’s shoulder. “Daring, having threats coming from someone so...conflicted.” Castiel’s jaw locked. “Ah, you and the boyfriend had a fight?”

“Placing us in this environment has caused a high level of stress. If you gave us some direction as to how to beat this mad game of yours, perhaps it would be resolved.”

“You need to look harder than that.”

“I...can’t.”

Gabriel sighed once more, humor turning to exasperation. “Listen. Cas. Take it from a guy who’s dealt with a lot of...emotionally disturbed beings. There’s always something brewing beneath what you think the problem is.” He poked Cas’ chest, making the angel look down. “It’s up to you to figure what that something is.”

Cas looked up at him, head tilting. “Why are you doing this?”

Gabriel, rolling his eyes, stood up. “What are you, deaf? How many times do I have to tell you two? I have a point to make. Several, actually.”

“How does this world aid in portraying-”

“Everything has a role to play. Now, enough questions! You guys have been giving me headaches.” Gabriel rubbed his temples, stepping off of the boulder and onto the dirt road below.

Before he disappeared, the archangel turned back around to face his brother, smirk firmly in place. “You know, you guys should actually try role-playing. Add some spice to you and Dean’s sex life.”  


“There hasn’t been any...” The shade of red on Castiel’s face nearly blended with his surroundings.  


With a laugh and a snap, Gabriel was gone, leaving the angel alone to contemplate his evasive speech. Cas felt dizzy, the continuous asking-and-not-receiving getting him nowhere. The angel contemplated whether or not he was in a time loop, the lack of progress disabling.  


Cas glanced back at the house, sensing Dean’s distress through the wooden walls. If anything, fighting was not going to aid in their...quest, as Gabriel would call it. After climbing down from the boulder, Cas stepped quietly back towards the front door, swallowing the lump in his throat.  


Opening the door, the rough hinges complained, drawing a pair of bright green eyes. Cas had to remember how to breathe.

“Cas.” Spoken softly, the word sent chills down the angel’s spine. Dean began to step closer, but Cas refrained from closing the gap and allowing strong hands to grip the fabric of his shirt.

“Dean.” He inhaled. “You know that I won’t leave.”

Dean continued to approach him, falling into Castiel’s gravity, the tension between their bodies nearly palpable. A soft smile tugged at the corners of Dean’s mouth.

“Right. I know.”

Castiel nearly surrendered to the tension, the desire to break and fall victim to Dean’s warm and wanting mouth overwhelming.

“Then you understand how important the matter at hand is, and that we don’t need any distractions.”

Dean’s smiled faded, and he stopped his advances, his hands curled into tight balls by his side.

“Yeah, I understand.”

“Good.”

Yet Castiel knew things between them were anything but.

\---

“You be careful with those supplies, you hear me boys?’ May wiped her hands on the front of her apron, watching as Dean and Cas loaded milk, wheat, corn, and other supplies onto the back of a cart. “Especially the milk. It’s popular over there in Armadillo.”

Dean smiled up at her, the wind catching her golden hair. He suddenly felt homesick.

“Sure thing, May. We’ll be back soon.”

“Nonsense.” She stepped up to the cart, placing her hand on Cas’ shoulder. “You boys enjoy yourselves in town. Have a drink at the bar.” She slipped something against Cas’ palm. “On me.”

Castiel glanced down at the money in his hand. “This isn’t at all necessary, May. You’ve already given us so much. We don’t need-”

“I do.” Dean snatched the paper out of the angel’s hand, ignoring the shiver sent down his arm as his knuckles graced Cas’ palm.

“What about being a good samaritan?”

Dean grinned and hurriedly jumped into the front seat of the cart. “Even good samaritans need to reward themselves.”

Cas rolled his eyes, but May rubbed his shoulder and gave a kind smile. She tilted her head towards the cart. “Go on, now. Give that boy something to look forward to.”

Castiel nodded, his eyes downcast. “I’m afraid he’s looking for too much.” May’s smile faltered, but he climbed into the cart without another word.

The ride to Armadillo was quiet, but the silence spoke volumes. The intent to speak was there, but their tongues never followed suit. Dean snuck glances at Cas, the sunbeams dancing along his mop of hair as it moved with the rhythm of the cart. At one point, Dean stared for too long and Cas stared back for a full five seconds before finally speaking up.

“Dean.”

“What?”

“You’re staring.”

“Just...admiring the view.”

“Admiring the landscape is perfectly reasonable.”

“I wasn’t talking about the landscape.”

“I know.”

There was a pause, and Cas felt his walls begin crack as Dean continued to stare. Cas had noticed the correlation between Dean’s increased sun exposure and the number of freckles dusting his cheeks, and his hands itched to reach out and brush them.  He wasn’t denying that what he felt for Dean was real, but this was an inconvenient setting for such...proclamations. Before, he didn’t think Dean would appreciate any form of distraction from the task at hand, but since last night, or even the morning before, Cas felt a warmth spread through his belly and chest that he couldn’t ignore.

He associated it with hope, or perhaps expectation, especially when Dean began to lean in closer, his body shifting in the seat of the cart. Cas’ eyes ran down his freckled cheeks and remained on the dip and curves of his lips, his control to capture them wavering.

A galloping horse broke through their tension, Dean’s hand gripping tightly to the gun in his lap. It was a single man riding the course of the path, and he passed the cart without a problem, the dust his horse kicked up making Cas’ eyes sting.

They needed to pay attention. Cas wasn’t sure if Gabriel would be as willing to save their lives again, and so he straightened up and kept his eyes on the road, even though he could feel Dean’s gaze burning into him.

The rest of the ride into Armadillo was as quiet as before, but Castiel found his gut churning in anticipation as they reached the town. He eyed the tavern, glancing between the building and Dean as the hunter began unloading May’s goods to sell to a man called Herbet. Time passed quicker than Cas had realized, and a hand was suddenly gripping his thigh. A wave of heat rolled through him as he looked down at Dean, his smile glinting in the bright sunlight.

“Wanna head inside the bar?”

Heart beating uncomfortably fast, Castiel nodded. He climbed off the cart, and Dean’s hand pressed into his lower back. He quickly walked towards the establishment, heat spreading up his neck as he heard Dean’s footsteps directly behind him.

They pushed the swinging saloon doors out of the way, and much to Castiel’s relief, no one’s eyes lingered on them more than a few seconds, disinterest evident in their postures. The saloon was rather busy, and so Dean gestured towards a small table in the back of the room.

“Go ahead and grab that and I’ll get us some drinks.”

Castiel found himself a mess, sitting in his squeaky, wooden chair, rubbing his fingers together and tapping his foot on the dirty floor. He felt his walls crumbling, with no evident catalyst. The heavy clink of Dean’s boots against the floor as he strode forwards had him swallowing hard.

“You alright there, Cas?” Dean asked as he sat down in front of him. Cas nodded but quickly reached out for his beer. He drained it in one sitting, hoping the alcohol would calm his nerves as memories of Dean in his bed flashed in his mind, causing the heat to boil beneath his skin.

“Dude, slow down. We’ve got plenty of time.” Cas couldn’t meet his eyes, and Dean persisted. “Are you sure you’re okay? It looks like you’re about to go nuke on me.” Castiel could feel the phantom burn of Dean’s mouth across his skin, and he finally looked up, watching as Dean’s concerned face turned red.

“Actually, it looks like you’re going to jump my bones.”

Cas fidgeted with his glass. “I need something stronger.”

Dean nodded quickly, his gestures becoming sloppy as he tried to get out of his chair and grab Cas’ glass.

“Wait, I don’t need this.” Dean set the glass back down. “ Right. They’ll just give you another one.” Before Dean could pull away, Cas grabbed his forearm, turning him on the spot. He didn’t know where the sudden rush of arousal came from, but he knew he couldn’t keep his control in check for very much longer. And because he was sitting down, Dean’s crotch was nearly eye-level with Cas, and he licked his lips as the heat spread up his neck. He could feel Dean tense, knowing full and well that he was watching him.

“Cas...”

“Dean. Could we talk out back for a moment?”

Dean nearly hauled Cas from his seat, maneuvering them through the patrons of the saloon until they made it to the back door. Dean took a quick look around, and seeing no one, he pushed Cas up against the wall outside of the bar, hands gripping his shoulders. Cas immediately went for Dean’s neck, kissing up and around his jawline, and he felt Dean shudder against him.

“You gotta tell me what’s going on, man. I can’t go back and forth like this.”

Castiel huffed, leaning away from him. “You were the indecisive one, Dean. Always lingering on if you reciprocate my feelings.”

“For the record, you weren’t very clear yourself, Cas.”

Castiel stared at him, his green eyes pulsing with a barely contained heat. “I attempted to show my affections when we were in the ocean, Dean. Since then, I’ve only been trying to-”

“What about when we were in bed together? Or last night? Why did you pull away?”

“You told me not to tell you how you felt. You seemed confused, and I no longer wanted it to cause you discomfort or distraction.”

Dean’s eyes softened, the heat within them only growing. “I’m sorry, Cas. I’m having a hard time trying to figure it out myself, but...”

Castiel’s grip tightened on Dean’s hips. “But?”

Dean smiled, his hand smoothing along Cas’ hair. “I think I’ve got it.”

“Then why don’t you show me?”

Dean didn’t need any other incentive as his lips crashed into the angel’s, his hips pressed upward at an angle that would soon drive Cas mad. Dean’s teeth continued to catch at his bottom lip until he slipped his tongue, causing a soft moan from Cas. He pulled Dean forward, the heat in his veins scorching, and rocked his hips against him.

Dean inhaled sharply, he fingers gripping Cas’ hair tight as he worked his mouth down his jawline until he reached his neck, where he sucked and nipped at the skin. Dean began a slow, rolling rhythm of his hips against Cas, causing flames to shoot up his back and tickle his gut. He gripped at Dean’s shirt as his mind began to fritz at the friction.

As Dean continued to work at his throat, Cas turned to lick up Dean’s cheek, sending a visible shiver down the hunter’s spine. Dean moved from his neck to look at him, but Cas bent his head down to lick Dean’s lips. Dean thrusted up, harder this time, and Cas rolled down to meet him, making them both moan.

“Shit, Cas...”

Cas kissed him, tongue tracing his bottom lip until it collided with Dean’s. The hunter’s hands roamed his chest, and Cas tilted his head up, reveling in the warm touch.

“Be careful looking like that, Cas. I may not be able to stop.” Cas looked back down at him, biting his lip. “Don’t do that either.”

“I want you to touch me, Dean.” Anticipation curled around Castiel’s stomach as he placed his hand over Dean’s, guiding it to his upper thigh. Dean’s mouth hung open, his hot, heavy breath ghosting across Cas’ neck. When Cas moved their hands until Dean was palming his erection, Cas’ head shot back up with a deep moan, the sound vibrating through his chest. Dean nearly whimpered, bending his head to nip at Cas’ collarbone.

After a moment, Castiel felt the sudden absence of heat and the lack of pressure from Dean’s body, and he feared that maybe he had taken it too far. But Dean’s mouth moved to Cas’ ear, his whispers sending Cas into a quivering mess.

“I need to take you somewhere. Now.”

Cas nodded, eagerly placing kisses under Dean’s ear. Dean bit back a moan and grabbed Cas’ wrist, pulling him around the building and towards the cart.

“We’ll draw too much attention in the hotel. Let’s put this cart to good use somewhere else.” They climbed up into the seats and Dean smacked the horses lightly to get them going. As they turned out of town, Cas reached over and palmed Dean’s erection, sparks singeing his nerves at Dean’s sharp inhale.

“Cas, you can’t be doing that unless you want me to steer these horses off the road.” A wicked thought crossed the angel’s mind, and he gave a small grin before rubbing Dean’s erection in a steady rhythm. Dean hissed, one of his hands letting go of the reins to halt Cas’ hand.

“Cas, please...wait until we’ve stopped, and then you can do that all you want.” Cas nodded, but kept his hand on Dean’s inner thigh, his thumb making teasing circles. Dean noticed a small path that lead off into an outcrop of rocks, and he turned there, only stopping the cart when the view of the road was hidden.

Dean quickly stood up and surveyed their surroundings, no doubt making sure of their safety. But Castiel was impatient, and he leaned forward to nip at Dean’s inner thigh. The hunter twitched and nearly fell over in the cart, but Cas steadied him. He watched as Dean swallowed, his throat bobbing up and down, and Cas wanted to cover it with his mouth.

“Cas, why don’t you...come lay down back here.” Riddled with a whirlwind of excitement and nerves, Cas did as he was told and stepped over into the flatbed of the cart. As he began to lay down on his back, Dean quickly hovered over him, pressing heated kisses against his neck. Dean licked and bit down into the dip between Cas’ collarbones, and sucked at the skin. He sat up to push Castiel’s thin shirt up and over his shoulders, baring his chest to Dean’s wandering tongue.

Cas moaned as Dean sucked at his right nipple, before kissing the angel’s quivering skin down past his navel. His thumbs pressed circles into his hips, and Cas moaned, lifting them up to show Dean exactly where he wanted to be touched. Dean chuckled, and Cas could feel it against his stomach.

“You want me to touch you, Cas?” Cas bit his lip and glanced down, Dean’s face almost predatory as his finger began to slide his pants lower. Dean mouthed at Cas’ erection through the material, and the angel bucked up, a small cry escaping his lips. Dean laughed again before pulling his trousers to his mid thigh, allowing his erection to spring free. Dean’s calloused fingers were immediately on him, stroking up and down his shaft in a pleasant rhythm. This was nothing like Castiel touching himself. This was something entirely new and powerful, as he felt the hinges of his mind begin to unravel under the hunter’s touch.

“You look gorgeous, Cas.” Dean licked one long stripe up his cock, causing Cas to hiss. He rolled his tongue once over the head, and Cas whimpered, his fingers trying to clutch onto the rough wood of the cart.

“Dean, please. Again.”

Dean grinned wolfishly up at him, his eyes burning under thick eyelashes. “Oh, I can do more than that.”  


Cas watched with wide eyes as Dean’s mouth slid down to encompass his erection almost completely, his tongue pressed firmly against the underside. Cas moaned, long and deep, and the heat in his gut expanded and surged.  


“Oh, _Dean_...” Dean purred, the vibrations sending tingling sparks through his cock that made Cas gasp. Dean’s head began to move up and down, his tongue pressing and flicking along his shaft and across the head, making Cas’ vision swim.  


Cas’ hips began to move with him, the sliding of lips and tongue around him making him delirious. Every inhale became sharp, and one hand clutched at the cart while the other gripped Dean’s hair. Dean’s paced increased, and the boiling heat within Castiel surge through his veins and nerves, his mouth whispering praises to Dean.  


“Oh....ohhhh, ah. Dean....Dean.” Cas’ grip tightened as he began to lose control, the building pressure within him pushing the breaking point. One more twirl of the tongue over his head and Dean swallowed around his cock, sending Castiel into a blinding whirlwind of fire and electricity.  


“ _Dean_!” He cried as he came in his mouth, the world around him spinning as he climaxed. Cas barely registered the clap of thunder overhead, but Dean’s hold on his hips anchored him back. He slowly opened his eyes to see a panting Dean, his grin splitting his face.  


“Damn, Cas, you’re really something. Made a lightning storm.” Cas flushed under the praise, but he quickly sat up to grasp and kiss Dean, even though his head was still spinning. He pressed fervent gratitude against Dean’s lips, his sweat dripping from his brow and onto Dean’s cheeks.  


Dean chuckled under the attention. “Easy there, tiger. Take a moment to breathe.” Dean’s grip didn’t lighten on Cas’ hips. Cas knew Dean was still consumed with arousal, and he wanted nothing more than to satisfy him.  


Cas growled as he bit at Dean’s bottom lip. “I want to touch _you_ , now.”  


Dean shivered and licked his lips before taking a deep breath. “Can’t say no to that. Not with you looking like that.” The heat that was still burning in Dean’s gaze had Cas shaking, and he pulled Dean forward until he was on his knees. He stripped the hunter of his vest and shirt and immediately began to mouth at Dean’s chest, his hands smoothing along his sides and over his nipples. Now that he was finally allowed to touch this man intimately, he revered every curve and stretch of muscle, over the pudge of his stomach and the tempting dip of his lower back.  


Cas smothered Dean with kisses, and he moaned under the attention. He shuddered as Cas gently licked and sucked at his left nipple, and Cas, heart threatening to pound through his ribcage, slowly slid Dean’s pants down over his ass, his erection springing up almost to his stomach.  


Cas froze, the sudden realization that he would get to touch Dean - to pleasure him, to make him moan and writhe and call his name - rocking him to his core. A finger lifted his chin to meet bright, green eyes and a soft smile.  


“It’s okay if you’re not ready, Cas. I can handle-”  


Castiel growled and grabbed his face, pulling him in for passionate kiss that had Dean melting into him. “Don’t be ridiculous.”  


Dean watched as Cas turned his palm and slowly licked up its length, and he swallowed, his eyes sparking. Cas wrapped his hand around Dean’s erection, and Dean’s eyes fluttered shut as a breathy moan slipped through his swollen lips. It sent delicious shivers down Cas’ spine. He wanted to hear that again.  


He started slowly, carefully, his hand slipping down the full length. Cas could tell Dean wanted him to pick up the pace, his hips matching Castiel’s strokes, but he refrained. Cas frowned slightly, leaning forward to whisper in his ear.  


“Guide me, Dean. Tell me what you want.” He licked under Dean’s ear, and Dean sucked in a sharp breath. “I want to hear you.”  


Cas increased his speed and pressure, occasionally flicking his thumb over the head of Dean’s cock.  


“Ahhh....Cas...” Dean tucked his face into Cas’ neck, rocking his hips in time with Cas as he mouthed at the skin there. Quick pants became a steady rhythm of moans as Cas continued to stroke him, their sweating bodies pressed against each other in a nearly blissful state.  


“Oh, Cas...fuck, Cas...so...goddamn beautiful. _Ah_.” Dean’s voice hitched as Cas began to rock against him, his flaccid cock rubbing along the bottom underside of Dean’s erection and his balls. “Ohhh Cas.... _Cas_.” As they writhed against each other, heat still pounding through Cas’ chest at Dean’s near constant moaning and calling his name, Cas bent his head down to bite at Dean’s shoulder before resting his head against the side of Dean’s face.  


“Dean. Do you remember that night we returned to the motel from the stripper’s den?” Dean nodded, his breath coming in heavy gusts. “Do you remember when we nearly kissed? The tension between us?” Dean moaned softly into his neck, his hips becoming jerky. Cas licked beneath his ear.  


“I touched myself and climaxed to the thought of you that night.”  


Dean cried out his name, his come spilling into his hand and between their chests. Dean writhed against him, and Cas’ closed his eyes, his fingernails digging into Dean’s back. He wanted to stay like this: their mouths open, honest, worshipping each other’s skin; their hearts pounding between their pressed chests; their bodies so close and intimate. For so long, Castiel had craved this, and he smiled, thinking that Dean had, too.  


“Jesus, Cas. That was amazing...” Dean finally lifted his head, his flustered cheeks making his freckles stand out. “And there’s so much more to do.”  


Cas kissed his mouth gently, nuzzling him with his nose. “You’ll have to show me.”  


“Hell yeah, I will.” Dean wrapped his arms around Cas and pressed him closer, softly kissing him until he smiled, his contentment fluttering beneath his chest. “But that will have to wait until later, and somewhere more comfortable.” He laughed, gathering their shirts. “Let’s get cleaned up before heading back to May’s.”  


“I believe there is some water in the pack under the seat.”  


Dean smiled, and gave him another kiss. “Perfect.”  


After they cleaned up and got dressed, they made their way back to the main road and headed for the Ridgewood Farm. Castiel was leaning his head on Dean’s shoulder when Dean began to hum a tune. Cas scrunched his nose in thought, recognizing the tune from his time spent in the Impala, but he couldn’t quite place it.  


“What are you singing?”  


Dean chuckled. “A song that Jo would never let me live down.” Cas hummed in content, leaning into Dean as he continued to quietly sing. He closed his eyes, enjoyingthe warmth the sun and Dean next to him, when a sudden sharp scent made him sit upright.  


Dean glanced at him. “Cas? You alright?”  


“Something is wrong.” Cas squinted into the horizon, his senses primed and alert. “I smell smoke.”  


Dean sniffed the air, but before he responded, they both saw a column of black smoke as they reached the peak of a hill.  


“Shit, that’s the farm.” Dean snapped the reins, sending the horses into the beginnings of a gallop. With the cart, they could only go so fast, but Cas, his mind sharp and his gun ready, prepared himself for any immediate danger.  


When they arrived at the farm, the black smoke cast the area in a poisonous shadow. Dean and Cas hurriedly hopped from the cart and ran for the house. Dean looked for a way in, but the roaring fire had already consumed too much of it to safely look inside.  


“May!” Dean shouted, crossing the road to look into the cattle pen. Castiel saw the still forms of some of the work hands, the intent of the message it left leaving a bitter taste in his mouth. He called out with Dean, searching every corner and crevice of the farm not destroyed by the fire. The hands were dead, the cattle was missing, and they had no idea where May could have gone.  


That was when Castiel heard crying, and ran to the outcrop of rocks where he had talked to Gabriel just last night. He saw a hunched form and called Dean over.  


“May? Are you alright?”  


A tear-streaked and soot-stained face looked up at them. “They destroyed everything.”  


“Who did?”  


“That gang...the one that came in earlier. You shot their leader.”  


Dean’s face was hard when he glanced at Cas, and the angel nodded. “We’re going to hunt those sons-of-bitches down.”  


“It’s no use. Nothing can help now. Aquila is dead. They’re all dead.” May covered her face with her hands, her sobs racking her body.  


“We have your money from the sales today. We’ll help you get back on your feet.”  


“Keep the damn money. I don’t want it.”  


Castiel frowned, concern heavy in his chest. “But May, we ca-”  


“Don’t you touch me!” She swatted his hand away, sneering at the both of them. “This is all your goddamn fault. Both of you. If you hadn’t come into my farm, none of this would have happened!” She gestured to the fire, her rage and despair seeping through her words. There was a pause, and Dean shifted beside Cas.  


“At least let us get you to Armadillo, somewhere, just away from this fire.”  


“I don’t want your help. You’re cursed.”  


Cas could see the determined set in Dean’s shoulders as he reached for May, but she slapped him before unsheathing a small knife from her belt.  


“Leave me. _Leave_!” She nearly screeched, her jaw set tight. She pointed the knife at both of them, and Dean stood up, his hands in the air.  


“Suit yourself.”  


“And take those damn horses. I don’t want anything you’ve touched.”  


Castiel knew Dean could easily take her out, but perhaps it was wise to leave. This world was foreign to him, after all, and he didn’t want to take any unnecessary chances with this woman they hardly knew, and at one point, Cas had hoped to trust.  


They didn’t turn their backs to May until they reached the cart. Dean quickly untied the horses from it and saddled one, giving the reins of the other to Cas once he got on. They cantered away from the farm, heading south, leaving the billowing black smoke a shadow in their wake.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Please leave comments/kudos, as they are very encouraging. I'll try to make weekly updates from now on, so here's hoping!
> 
> Song that Dean said that Jo would never let him live down: http://youtu.be/FgT_mJXbvCQ


	9. Pt4 - Chapter 6: Trouble Comes Knocking

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, it's been a long while. All I can say is that shit happens. Like writer's block, which is the douchiest cockwaffle of all. Hope you enjoy the last update! A/N at the end.

Wood creaked, suffering from time and climate, as soft footsteps crossed a threshold littered with crisp book pages and dirty rags. Dried rings of blood were ignored as grief fueled malice, a thickening smoke trapped within a rasp throat.

A quiet voice begged weathered fingers as they played cards and brittle bones, until the voice made an offer that couldn’t be refused. Foolish, perhaps. The dealer grinned.

What would a villain be without a tragedy?

\---

The soft crackle of the fire filled the silence of the New Austin night. Sounds of numerous creatures and the quiet whisp of the plants joining, tangling, separating, were absent, and even the moon and stars seemed dimmed, though cloudless the sky was. The night was holding its breath, a clutch of fingers and a widened stare, uneasiness settling over the desert.

It was the fifth day to protrude silent, sunless hours, the cold an increasingly heavy weight.

Dean could hear his steady heartbeat in his ears, feel it pulse beneath his bones and into the dirt. He wanted to break the monotonous quiet, but words were lost in his throat, unwilling to disturb the slumber of the angel that slept beside him.

Perhaps hours passed. He wasn’t really sure. Sleep was hard to come by, a nervous tick nestling at the base of his spine keeping him from resting properly. A shuffle beside him broke him of his thoughts, and he glanced down at Cas, the angel turning to look up at him through heavy lidded eyes.

“Your shift is over, Dean. Go to sleep.”

Dean blinked slowly before looking up at the stars. “Nah, I’m good. You need to keep your mojo in check. Don’t want it to drain by lookin’ after me.”

“Dean,” Cas pressed, sitting up from their makeshift bed on top of the dry earth. His body blocked the light of the fire behind him, casting his edges in an otherworldly glow. It reminded Dean of the Renaissance paintings of holy icons. “You’ve barely rested these past few days.”

“Well, that’s because I’m a bit restless, Cas.” Dean rubbed his face, leaving his hand limp against his closed eyes. “I mean, we haven’t heard a peep from Gabriel in, what? Five days? Baby’s missing, there haven’t been any outlaws to shoot or civilians to save. I mean, it feels like the fucking game is on pause and it’s _frustrating_.”

“And unnerving,” Cas added. Dean swallowed.

“Yeah. That.”

A pause, a breath, and Cas leaned down to kiss Dean, a soft parting of lips.

“You still need to sleep.”

Dean sighed and opened his eyes to see Cas’ bright blues staring down at him, and his heart pathetically flip-flopped.

“I wish I could, Cas.”

“At least try.”

Dean obliged, shifting to lay on his side, facing the fire. Cas laid down next to him, gazing up at the stars. His hand never left Dean’s as the hunter’s eyes slowly slid shut.

\---

_“Each little tear and sorrow only brings you closer to me. Just wait until tomorrow. What a happy day that will be.”_

Dean blinked, his sleep disturbed by the timey tune as it filtered through the radio next to his motel bed. He slowly sat up, stretching and rubbing his face as he squinted at the obscenely bright light pouring in through their window. He registered the clothes strewn about the room and the still form of a sleeping Cas in the adjacent motel bed, and it hit him full force that they were back in San Fran.

“Cas! Cas, wake the fuck up!” Dean bolted from his bed and practically leapt onto Cas, shaking the angel roughly. Cas shot up suddenly, knocking Dean back onto the mattress, his head colliding with Cas’ knees.

Cas’ chest heaved, his shoulders tense as he surveyed their surroundings with sharp eyes. He slowly relaxed, his body sagging back into the sheets as he recognized no immediate danger.

“It seems we’re back.”

“No shit, Cas, but how? Where’s Gabriel?”

“No doubt gracing the Earth with his less than tasteful debauchery.”

“Every Gabriel-grade act of debauchery is of the utmost taste, little bro.”

Gabriel was lounging on Dean’s bed, legs stretched and feet curling around the comforter. A smirk was plastered to his face as he licked slowly up a rainbow unicorn lollipop. Dean exhaled, anger twinging in his gut.

“Where were you?”

“Bored. You two don’t deliver on post-coital drama. Shame, really.”

Dean ignored the heat creeping up his neck and kept pushing. “Sorry to disappoint, dickbag. Is that why you left us stranded for five days?”

“I was giving you leeway for a domestic spat or two. But, it seems you guys _finally_ learned your lesson, and decided not to bitch about it. Well done.”

Dean sputtered, but Cas leaned forward in interest. “Gabriel, you were playing matchmaker?”

Gabriel slow clapped, his lollipop hanging obscenely from his lips until he snapped it away. “You two are miserably slow.”

“Why not leave it to Cupid?” Dean snapped, his cheeks flushed with anger. “You gotta risk our lives to help us get _laid_?”

“It was the only way to pound it into your heads, literally and figuratively speaking.”

“Why?”

Gabriel’s amusement dropped like a hat, his face turning steely as he stood up from the bed to stare down at them. Dean’s hair stood on end, the electricity in the air thrumming with the intent to strike.

“The poor communication, the jealousy, the apathetic fuckery that you both submitted yourselves to when all seemed unrequited. It was pathetic and stupid, and above all, _distracting_.”

“Distracting from what, Gabriel?” Castiel questioned. Gabriel quieted some, the electricity only a faint hum.

“Your roles.” Gabriel turned and held up his hand before Dean could utter a word. “It’ll make sense soon enough. If I have to fly back by and reality-shock your asses again, I will. But for now, I’m done helping you and your misguided senses, or lack thereof.”

“So that’s it? Game over?” Dean asked as he stood, Cas following suit. “It’d sure as hell be nice to know if we weren’t going to get thrown mid-battle into Halo next.”

Just like that, Gabriel’s smirk returned and the air became lighter and easier to breathe. He turned, patting Cas on the shoulder before winking at Dean.

“As entertaining and tempting as that might be, I have other schmoozes and schmucks to attend to. Don’t get into trouble you can’t get out of; I’m not floating on your shoulder anymore.”

With a laugh and a snap, Gabriel was gone, leaving Dean and Cas in their San Francisco motel room. A few silent moments passed before Cas moved to begin collecting their items scattered about the floor. Dean watched him even as a headache blossomed from his brain trying to sort through and store the mindfuck that was the past couple of weeks. At that thought, Dean reached for his phone and checked the date, a sigh caught between relief and frustration escaping his lips.

“It’s still the same day when we left for that circus in the desert. It’s only been a few hours!” He turned to Cas, who was piling clothes into Dean’s duffle. “I feel like I’ve had the longest dream and no damned rest.” The realization opened the floodgates for exhaustion, and Dean slunk back onto Cas’ bed.

“Time loops often have those effects.” Dean only grunted in response, turning to stuff his face into a pillow. It smelled like Cas, and he smiled.

“I could use a nice, long sleep. Why don’t you join me?” Dean could hear Cas pause his movements, remaining still as he considered. The mattress dipped by Dean’s feet, and his smile grew wider and Cas climbed to lay behind him. Dean rolled to look Cas in the eye, those blues open and sparking with affection. “There’s time for spooning later. C’mere.”

Dean wrapped his arm around Cas’ back, his skin smooth and warm as he tucked him to his chest. Cas sighed as he settled, his own arm wrapping around Dean’s waist, his face hidden against his neck. Dean felt his lips press a soft kiss under his chin, and Dean tightened his arms around him, allowing his thoughts to turn into haze and his eyes to close.

_“Down Lovers Lane together, we'll wander, you and I. Goodbye to stormy weather. The clouds will soon roll by.”_

\---

He woke in a cold sweat, his breath ragged as the shadows in the room pulled at his eyes. His phone continued to vibrate on the bedside stand and he blindly reached for it. The room was dark despite the presence of moonlight.

“Hello?”

“Dean, it’s Bobby. You alright?”

Dean inhaled slowly, willing his heart to slow down. “Yeah, yeah, just...what do you need?”

“I have a job for you. Several deaths out in Texas. No signs of forced entry or even a struggle at any of the murder scenes. I'm thinking witches might be involved. You up for it?”

“Yeah, Cas and I will take care of it. We’ll head out in the morning.”

“Keep me updated, son.”

Dean shut his phone and placed it back on the bedside stand before laying down, the sheets cold against his skin. The nervous tick in his spine returned, pronounced enough to keep him from remaining in one position long. After tossing and turning, a warm hand rested on his bicep, questioning and tender.

“I’m fine, Cas. We’ll get some more shut eye before we leave.”

The shadows grew in the corners of his eyes as he stared at the ceiling. Sleep never came.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Timey tune: http://youtu.be/AwEBVYdPQQ8
> 
> Wanted to leave the end of the fic open for your interpretation. Did they really wake up in the real world, or were they still trapped? Was Bobby's call linked to the events "in game"? Truly, the boys work is never done. _You_ get to decide their ending. Isn't that what video games are all about?


End file.
